


Outsider

by Emospritelet



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Also Some Groping, Alternate Universe, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, First Time, Gold Being a Sneaky Little Shit, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Like Full-On Snogging, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Post-Coital Fluff, Prompt Fic, Sexual Assault, Smut, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Yeah The Rating's Going Up, more violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-09-21 00:33:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 38
Words: 50,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9523082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emospritelet/pseuds/Emospritelet
Summary: Belle Marchland has been running for a long time.  Down on her luck and out of money, she stumbles into a small town called Storybrooke, where a chance encounter leads to a new job, a place to stay and a chance to rest.  But her past is catching up with her...





	1. "You're too young to hate the world"

**Author's Note:**

> Each chapter of this fic has been written based on a one-line prompt from a tumblr post, so the direction it takes is partly up to my readers! Winner of Best AU in The Espenson Awards 2018

**Anonymous prompted - 2 "You're too young to hate the world"**

* * *

The town seemed to appear out of the forest all of a sudden, as though she had passed an invisible barrier that had previously hidden it from view.  Belle stopped walking, casting her eyes over the scene that lay in front of her.  It was a small town, the main road running through it, thick forest on either side hugging the streets and casting shadows over the gardens and sidewalks.  It looked harmless enough, however, and she had been walking for miles.  Perhaps it would be safe.  Perhaps she could take a little time to rest.

She made her decision, trotting down the hill on feet that throbbed and burned. Blisters that she had been trying to ignore for the past ten miles or so suddenly roared to life, and she limped as she passed the first clapboard houses. _Storybrooke_ , the sign had said.  A quaint name for a quaint town.  People eyed her curiously as she passed, and she was unsure whether it was the fact that she had obviously been travelling for some time, or simply that she was a stranger.  She smiled at those she passed, receiving cautious nods in return. Perhaps they thought she was there to steal.  She wouldn’t if she could help it, of course, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and all too often in the past few months her morals had done battle with her hunger, and lost.

Houses gave way to shops, and she sniffed the air at the scent of frying bacon, her mouth watering.   _Granny’s Diner_ , a sign proclaimed, and Belle quickened her pace, hoping they might offer her work in exchange for a decent breakfast.  She hadn’t eaten properly in three days.  Pushing open the door, she stepped inside, enveloped in a pleasant warmth and the scent of food and rich coffee.  There were a few diners there despite the early hour; two nuns sat across from one another with tea cups in their hands, chatting.  A man in a suit with long hair falling around his face read a newspaper at a table by the window, and seven burly men were crowded into a booth, wolfing down eggs and bacon. Waitresses in white shirts and red skirts hurried here and there with trays of food.

“What can I get you?”

An old woman, sharp eyes watching her behind gold-rimmed glasses, looked Belle up and down, and from the way her mouth flattened it was evident that she wasn’t impressed.  Given her bedraggled appearance Belle supposed she couldn’t blame her.

“You want to order?” she asked, a little impatiently, and Belle blinked.

“Oh!  Actually, I was wondering if you might be hiring,” she said, but the woman had started shaking her head even before the sentence was out of her mouth.

“Not right now,” she said.  “There’s no real turnover here.  My girls have been here as long as I can remember.  Not looking to take anyone else on.  You want breakfast or not?”

“I - yes,” said Belle, and the woman nodded, a knowing look in her eyes.

“You got the money to pay for it?”

Belle opened and closed her mouth a couple of times.

“Well, that’s why I was wondering…”

“I told you, no can do,” the woman interrupted.  “No money, no breakfast.  Sorry, girl.”

“Mrs Lucas.”

The man in the suit had spoken.  He was looking over, holding a twenty-dollar bill between his first two fingers.

“Give her whatever she wants,” he said quietly, not looking at Belle.

The woman - Mrs Lucas - took the twenty dollars with a sniff, and raised an eyebrow at Belle.

“The works, huh?” she asked, and nodded before bustling off, not waiting for a response.

Belle looked around the diner for a moment.  The other patrons were staring at her, and casting furtive glances at the man in the suit, who had turned back to his newspaper.  After a moment’s hesitation, she shrugged off her backpack and coat and slid into the seat opposite him.

“No need to favour me with your presence, dearie,” he said, not looking up.  “I’m paying for your breakfast, not your company.”

“It’s very kind of you,” she said, and he shrugged.  “Kindness seems to be in short supply these days.”

He took a drink of his coffee, flicking his hair back as he finally met her gaze. His eyes were the colour of strong tea, set in a thin face, his hair greying at the temples. There were lines around his eyes and mouth, as though he used to smile a lot, but had forgotten how. Folding the newspaper, he set it aside, and drank the rest of his coffee. One of the waitresses brought Belle a cup, and refilled his own.

“What’s your name?” he asked then, and Belle wrapped her hands around the cup, savouring its warmth. She almost told him the truth before catching herself.

“Lacey,” she said, and his mouth twisted a little, as though he knew it were a lie.

“And what are you running from, Lacey?” he asked softly.

Her hands shook as she set down the cup, dark droplets of coffee slopping over the rim to pool around its base. She wanted sugar in it, and he pushed the shaker towards her without being asked, watching intently as she poured in a generous measure.

“Everything, I guess,” she said, and the corner of his mouth lifted a little, almost a smile.

“Is it really that bad?” he asked, amused.

She didn’t answer, stirring her coffee. It needed cream, but he didn’t have any, and she didn’t like to ask. She picked it up with both hands and took a sip, almost burning her tongue.

“Here you go!”  

A cheerful voice made her look up, and a smiling, dark-haired waitress put a plate of bacon, eggs and pancakes in front of her, along with four slices of toast, a dish of butter and some maple syrup. Belle heard her stomach rumble, and blushed.

“Could you bring her some cream for the coffee please, Miss Lucas?” asked the man, and the waitress nodded, although Belle noticed that her smile slipped as she did so.

“You should eat that before it gets cold,” he advised, and she set to with a will, shovelling eggs into her mouth. He watched as she spread butter on the toast and poured syrup over the pancakes. Miss Lucas returned with a pot of cream, and Belle nodded her thanks and tipped it into her coffee. _Perfect_.

“Do you have a place to stay tonight?” he asked then, and her chewing slowed and stopped. She raised her eyes to him, suddenly wary, and set her knife and fork down.

“No,” she said cautiously.

He smiled properly then, as though her reaction had amused him. He had a gold tooth in his bottom jaw, and his other teeth were very white. It gave him a somewhat wolfish appearance.

“I told you I wasn’t paying for your company,” he said dryly. “Eat your breakfast, Lacey. I haven’t started defiling the innocent, no matter what the townsfolk may think of me.”

He drained his coffee and stood up with the aid of a gold-handled cane, picking up a woollen overcoat and shrugging it on.

“Sorry,” she said.  “It’s just…”

“Oh, I understand, dearie, believe me.” He fished a pair of sunglasses from the breast pocket of his suit and put them on. “The world can be a dangerous place, even in small towns like this.”

Belle hunched her shoulders a little.

“I hate the world,” she whispered, and he chuckled.

“You’re too young to hate the world,” he said. “But give it time.”

He walked over to the bar, and she turned back to her breakfast, cutting a piece of pancake and dipping it in the pool of syrup. She watched him out of the corner of her eye as he spoke briefly with Mrs Lucas, who nodded curtly. Then he turned away, his cane tapping on the floor, and she could feel it as he passed her on his way to the door, his presence somehow warm and heavy. There was a blast of cold air, a click as the door closed, and he was gone.

Belle drank half of her coffee, popping another piece of pancake into her mouth and chewing. The food was delicious, and she intended to take her time. There was no guarantee when she would eat again, after all. One of the waitresses refilled her coffee cup, and the caffeine was giving her a gentle buzz, her body pleasantly warm and full from the food.

She was scraping the last of the grease and syrup from her plate when Mrs Lucas bustled over, hands on ample hips.

“You have a room for the night, girl,” she announced. “Follow me, and we’ll see about getting you settled. By the looks of you, you could use a hot bath, hmm?”

Blinking in surprise, Belle pushed her plate away and stood up, shouldering her pack and draping her coat over her arm.

“A room?” she asked, puzzled, and the old woman nodded.

“Courtesy of Mr Gold,” she said.


	2. "It sounds like you're trying to convince yourself"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @kixxar prompted: Number 49 - it sounds like you're trying to convince yourself!

The room she was shown to was warm and comfortable, with a large bed covered by a thick blanket, flowered wallpaper and a chintzy armchair set by a small coffee table. There was a dresser by the window, and Belle looked out curiously at the dark mass of the woods beyond. A small bathroom was off to the right, and she decided to follow Mrs Lucas’s suggestion and take a bath. She left the water running and began to undress, stripping off clothing grown stiff after days on the road. Perhaps the place had a laundry, although she didn’t really have the money to pay for it. She could at least wash her underthings in the sink, though, and she had a few more clean clothes in the pack.

She filled the sink with hot water, and stripped off her underwear and socks. There was a cake of soap sitting in its holder, and she scrubbed at the clothing until it was as clean as she could get it, wringing the water out and draping the clothes over the radiator beneath the bathroom window. Her bath was full and steaming, and she got in with a wince and a sharp intake of breath, lowering herself gingerly into the hot water before leaning back with a contented sigh as the heat seeped into her.

Belle inspected her feet anxiously, noting that the angry red blister she had spotted two days previously had burst, and she had another on the heel of her other foot. The hot water made them sting, but she had some gauze and antiseptic ointment in her pack. She could be on her feet and back on the road in the morning. And then where? Where could she go, with winter closing in and no money in her pockets? When could she stop running? Her mind strayed to the strange man who was responsible for her full belly and her first night sleeping in a proper bed in months. Mr Gold. Mrs Lucas seemed to disapprove of him, and the reaction of the townsfolk to him paying for her breakfast almost suggested that they were afraid of him, but she couldn’t see why. He had been perfectly polite and generous to her. A little - intense, perhaps, but not in a creepy way. She had learned to recognise creeps.

Sighing, she picked up the soap and began lathering a washcloth, using it to scrub the dust of the road from her skin. Mr Gold was a mystery to be uncovered when she was clean and dry.

After she was clean, and her hair washed, dried and brushed until it hung in shining waves around her shoulders again, she dressed in the cleanest of her clothes, skinny jeans and warm socks with a dark blue long-sleeved shirt that clung to her. She pulled her jacket on over the top, and brushed and twisted her hair into two side plaits, to keep it out of her way. Shower facilities were few and far between when one had no fixed abode, and she had discovered a few weeks into her travels that plaited hair stayed clean far longer. Pulling a hat down over her head, she shoved her pack under the bed and locked the room behind her, before making her way downstairs.

It only took a moment to find out where Mr Gold worked, and she set off down the main street, casting her eyes about nervously, ever alert to any threat. The sign above the shop door drew her eyes.  _Pawnbroker & Antiquities Dealer._ He had money, then, which perhaps explained his earlier generosity. It was a pity she had nothing to sell. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door, a small bell tinkling merrily as she entered.

“Hello?” she said nervously, and heard the rhythmic tap of his cane. Mr Gold appeared from behind a curtain next to the shop counter. His eyebrows rose at the sight of her, and she could sense his surprise.

“Lacey,” he said quietly.  “What can I do for you?”

“I - I just wanted to say thank you,” she said in a rush, realising that she should probably thought over what she wanted to say to him. “I had no idea you’d paid for a room for me.  You really didn’t have to.”

“I know.”  He shifted his hands on the cane, settling it between his legs. “I trust the room is to your satisfaction?”

“Um - yes - yes it’s lovely.”  

She was stumbling over the words, unnerved by his eyes, and he watched her steadily. Raising her chin, her heart thumping, she met his gaze.

“Why did you do it?” she asked. “You don’t owe me anything.”

He showed his teeth. “Well, perhaps I’m storing up credit.”

“I’ll be gone tomorrow,” she said dryly, and he put his head to the side a little.

“Really? Where are you going?”

“Just - away.”  She shrank in on herself, crossing her arms around her belly.

“Away?” He nodded. “Never been there myself. I’m sure it’s delightful, but I always prefer Somewhere. Or better still, Here.”

She shot him a wry look. “Oh, you’re funny.”

“Must be why I’m so incredibly popular,” he said, gesturing to the empty shop, and she bit back a smile.

“I can’t stay here,” she said. “I just wanted to thank you, that’s all. I have to keep moving.”

“Until you find what you’re looking for?” he asked. “Or until they stop chasing you?”

Belle felt her jaw clench.

“No one’s chasing me,” she said stiffly, and his eyes glinted.

“Oh!” he breathed.  “How about that?”

She shook her head, taking a step back, and turned away.

“Look, forget it, I just wanted…”

“I can help you,” he interrupted. “Whatever - or whomever - you’re running from. I can help you.”

Belle turned slowly to face him, and he was still watching her, still with that tiny grin and the gleam in his eyes.

“I don’t need any help,” she said automatically.

“It sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself,” he said, and raised an eyebrow. “Did it work?”

She stared at him, opening and closing her fists in confusion, and he nodded.

“Why don’t we start over?” he suggested, and pressed a hand to his chest, over his heart. “My name is Mr Gold, and I’d like to offer you a job.”

Belle licked her lips, her heart thumping hard in her chest.

“What’s the price?” she asked, and his grin widened.

“You tell me your real name.”


	3. "No one has a heart of stone"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @tinuviel-undomiel prompted - 21 - no one has a heart of stone

There was silence for a long moment.  Belle could feel her pulse throbbing, panic rising in her. Mr Gold simply stood, watching her, and waiting for her to speak. Part of her mind was screaming at her to run, to get far away, before he could find the truth, before he could contact them. The more rational part of her suggested that he couldn’t possibly know her past, and that he had shown her nothing but kindness so far, but she had learned to be cautious of strangers.

“What kind of a job?” she asked, playing for time, and he shrugged, shaking his hair back a little.

“I need an assistant,” he said. “Cleaning, cataloguing. Some simple accounting, perhaps.”

“You don’t look that busy,” she observed, and he gave her a rueful smile.

“I own almost every building in this town,” he said. “Being Storybooke’s most unpopular landlord is in itself a full-time job. If you help me, at least I wouldn’t have to close the shop when I make my rounds.”

That made sense, she supposed.

“Hours are eight-thirty until six, Monday through Saturday,” he added. “One hour for lunch, and time off with my prior agreement.”

“What are you paying?” she asked then, expecting some paltry sum.  Most of the ad-hoc work she had done to earn enough to feed herself hadn’t even been minimum wage. Gold sucked his teeth, fingers tightening on the cane handle.

“I’ll pay you fifteen dollars an hour,” he said. “Rising to twenty after two weeks, if you do as you’re told.”

“You think I’ll still be here after two weeks?” she said disbelievingly, and he grinned.

“Oh, I’m counting on it.”

“You’re paying over the odds,” she observed. “Hardly the actions of an unpopular landlord with a heart of stone.”

Gold smiled.

“No one has a heart of stone,” he said. “Even the most evil of us care about something. Some of us care too much. It doesn’t stop me being a bastard when I need to be. Perhaps I’m offering you danger money.”

His grin became toothy, and she gave him a flat look to show she wasn’t scared of him. It was a good wage - more than good, really, but she said nothing.

“There’s also accommodation, if you want it,” he added. “The inn is comfortable enough, of course, but I can offer you something more private.”

“Because you own everything, right?”

“Right.”

Belle shifted from foot to foot, considering. It wasn’t as though she had any idea where she was going, after all, and perhaps it would give her time to figure things out while she put some money aside.

“Okay,” she said. “Okay, I’ll - I’ll take the job.”

“Excellent.” He smiled at her, gold tooth gleaming.

That heavy silence descended again, as though he were waiting for something, but Belle was reluctant to break it. After a moment, the corner of his mouth lifted a little.

“Well then,” he said. “I believe you owe me your name.”

“Belle,” she said, and he mouthed the word, the tip of his tongue briefly visible in the darkness of his mouth. He nodded.

“I’m going to need your full name, Belle.”

She licked her lips, holding his gaze. “Belle French.”

Gold was silent for a moment, then shook his head slowly, tutting under his breath.

“Don’t ever lie to me again,” he said quietly, and she swallowed hard.

“Belle - Belle Marchland,” she stammered, and he nodded.

“Very well, Belle Marchland,” he said. “That name can remain between us. I take it Lacey French is the name you gave Mrs Lucas?”

She nodded wordlessly.

“And is that the name you would like me to use unless we’re alone?” he asked, and she nodded again.

“Then the deal is struck,” he said, and held out his hand.

After a moment’s hesitation she took it, and he wrapped long fingers around hers with a slight pressure. His hand was smooth and cool. She met his eyes, nervousness rising within her again at the intensity in his gaze, but he merely shook her hand once and released it again.

“What are your thoughts on the offer of accommodation?” he asked, and Belle thought for a moment.

“I’d like to take a look,” she said. “Where would I be staying?”

“You’d be staying with me.”


	4. "Same time tomorrow?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @djlouat prompted: #11 - same time tomorrow?

His house was pink.

She looked up at it from her seat in his car.  The house was a handsome Victorian, steps leading up to a door set with stained glass panels.  The garden was very neat, the grass clipped, and she wondered if he had help to keep it.

“Do you live alone?” she asked, knowing what his answer would be.

“I do.  At the moment, anyway.”

He got out of the car, opening her door and offering a hand to help her out.  She followed him up the path, waiting as he unlocked the door with a large set of keys.  The hallway was lit by the late morning sun shining through windows in the lounge off to the left.  The furniture looked expensive, leather armchairs positioned in the bay window to catch the morning sun, and a beautifully carved dresser holding delicate pieces of fine china.

“You have nice things,” she ventured, and he gave her a brief smile.

“I keep a lot of stock here when it’s not at the shop,” he said.  “Shall we?”

He gestured along the hallway, and Belle followed as he led her to a large dining room, a long table in polished dark wood with ten chairs set around it.  There was a silver tray with three crystal decanters at one end, each half-filled with some sort of liquor.  A single glass sat on the tray.  It made her think that he must sit here alone, rolling that glass between his fingers and staring into the liquid as it swirled. The thought made her sad.

The kitchen was large and pleasant, slate tiles on the floor and clean, modern appliances.  There was a small table and four chairs, and she hoped that this was where he usually ate, rather than the cold, lonely dining room.

“Do you cook?” she asked, and he nodded.

“I do.  Do you?”

“A little.”  She walked around, running her eyes over everything, and he gestured to the stairs.

“Your room would be upstairs,” he said.

She let him lead the way, and he waited for her on the landing.  Two doors were in front of her, and another off to the left.

“The one directly in front of you is the most spacious,” he said.  “The one next to it is smaller, but has more light in the morning, and the door behind you is a bathroom.”

“What about the one behind you?” she asked.

“That would be my room.”

Belle tried the handle of the door in front of her.  The room was light and airy, with a bay window looking out over the large rear garden to the forests beyond.  A bed with an ornately carved headboard was covered with white cotton sheets and a red woollen blanket, and a dresser and chair was next to it.  She had a peek at the other room, but preferred the first.

“What do you think?”

He was watching her intently, and it should have made her nervous.  It didn’t, though.  She felt oddly safe with him.  It never hurt to be sure, however.

“Just the room, right?” she said cautiously.  “No funny business after dark?”

Gold’s eyes gleamed with amusement.

“I’m not that kind of monster, I assure you,” he said.  “I thought we might eat together, though.  If you wanted.”

Belle made her decision, and shut the door.

“Okay,” she said.  “Then I’ll take it, thank you.”

“Excellent.”  He shifted his position a little, and she wondered if standing for a long time hurt his leg.

“I suggest you rest for today, and start work tomorrow,” he added.  “Let me take you back to the inn.”

“Thank you.”  She meant it, and for more than the offer of a job and a place to live.

“And if you have no objection, I’ll join you for breakfast before we start work,” he said.

“Um - okay,” she said, and he nodded.

“I think we crossed paths around seven-thirty this morning,” he mused, and raised an eyebrow.  “Same time tomorrow?”


	5. "I'm alive...I can tell because of the pain"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @still-searching47 prompted: Oh man I'm torn between 4 and 18 for this amazing prompt AU you have got going. So I'm going to be cheeky and say both *hides* If both isn't allowed, then pick whichever works best/the one you like the most. Thank you! :)
> 
> 4\. “We’re designed to be disposable.”
> 
> 18\. “I’m alive… I can tell because of the pain.”

Belle slept well for the first time in weeks.  Her room at the inn had a lock on the door, and once the diner’s patrons had left at just after eleven, it was quiet and calm.  She was a little nervous about the new job she was starting, and about moving into Mr Gold’s house, but overall she felt - if not safe, at least as though she had bought herself some time.

He joined her for breakfast the next day, as promised, and Belle tried to ignore the curious stares from the other customers.  She had ordered scrambled eggs and bacon, with toast and honey on the side, and was making short work of it.  Mr Gold only ordered coffee and a bagel, and she wasn’t surprised that he was so thin.  She reached for the butter just as he did, and jerked as their fingers touched, a tiny jolt of sensation going through her.  The low buzz of conversation from a few of the diners dropped to a whisper, and Gold smirked.

“It appears that your presence has aroused some gossip,” he said, sitting back, and Belle shrugged.

“I’m a stranger, I guess.  They’re probably wondering where I came from.”

“From what I can hear they’re wondering if you’re sleeping with me,” he said dryly, and Belle dropped her fork with a clatter, her face reddening as she scrabbled for it.

“Really?”  She looked at the other diners furiously, and they instantly turned their attention to their plates.

“Well, I’m sure moving you into my house will squash that rumour,” he said cheerfully, and she sent him a look.

“I think you’re enjoying this.”

He grinned at her.  “I like to keep them guessing.  It never pays to be predictable.”

“Hmm.”  She was amused.  “Predictable is the last thing I’d call you, Mr Gold.”

* * *

They walked to the shop together, the cold air making Belle’s breath catch in her throat, Gold’s cane tapping on the sidewalk.  For a man with a limp he could move surprisingly quickly, and there was an odd, sinuous grace to him.  She found herself watching him throughout the day as he moved through the shop, his hands caressing the objects on the shelves, his lips moving silently as he ran one long index finger down a column of figures in the thick account books he kept under the desk.

It was almost five in the evening before she managed to screw up.  She had been dusting some of the higher shelves, perched on a stepladder and wielding a feather duster in one hand and a cloth in the other.  It was her own fault that she had been daydreaming, and it certainly wasn’t _his_ fault then the sound of his voice made her yelp in surprise and lose her balance.  It _was_ possibly his fault that he had chosen to stand directly beneath her, however, but on the plus side he cushioned her fall.

“Oh my God!”  Belle struggled, trying to push herself upright and wondering if she’d killed her new employer before she’d even managed a full day.  “Mr Gold, are you okay?”

“I’m alive, thank you,” he said, his voice muffled, and she sat up immediately.

“Oh, thank God!”

“I can tell because of the pain,” he added dryly.  “If you could take your knee out of my groin I’d be eternally grateful.”

She climbed off him, blushing, and he pushed himself up on his hands, his mouth flattening as he saw the dust on his suit.

“I’m so so sorry!” she said.  “I just - I overbalanced, I couldn’t help it!”

“Quite alright.”  He brushed himself off, and she stood up, holding out her hand to pull him up.  After a moment’s hesitation, he took it, using his cane as leverage, and she tugged, pulling him to his feet.  He stumbled a little, and she caught him around the waist, steadying him until he could ground his cane and take his weight.  He smelled very good, of something woody and spicy and expensive, and she swallowed hard as she met his eyes.

“Thank you,” he said softly.  “I think I’ll be alright, as long as you have no further plans for my demise.”

Belle chewed her lip in agitation.  “I’ll try to be more careful.”

“Anyone would think we’re designed to be disposable,” he said.  “So many things that can break and tear.  So many ways…”

She watched his lips move, forming the words, cool breath on her face, and her heart thumped a little faster.

“Are - are you sure you’re okay?”

She could feel him breathing, the gentle rise and fall of his chest against hers, the warmth of his body through his waistcoat and the thin silk of his shirt.  He blinked, and it was as though a spell had been broken.  She loosened her grip, a blush rising in her cheeks.

“Well, it’s not the most damage that’s ever been done to me,” he said wryly, and broke away from her, limping to the shop counter.  “I think I’ll survive your presence, dearie.”

“Good, I’m gonna need you to pay me.”

He grinned at that, his hands poised on the shop counter, fingers splayed against the glass, and she returned his smile.


	6. "I have contemplated becoming a hermit"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous prompted: I have contemplated becoming a hermit

He cooked dinner that evening, a simple meal of fresh fish with new potatoes and peas.  She could taste chopped mint stirred through the buttered peas, and the light taste was delicious with the thick, juicy piece of halibut.  Gold drank a glass of very cold white wine with his meal, but she shook her head when he offered her some.  It wasn’t that she thought he’d slip something into it, but she had found that it paid to be cautious, and she liked to keep a clear head, just in case.  He poured her a glass of water instead, and afterwards she washed the dishes and made a pot of tea.

They took their tea into the lounge, and he settled himself in one of the chairs, watching her as she ran her eyes over the contents of his bookshelves.  She couldn’t help smiling at some of the titles there; he had many of her favourites, from classic novels to Shakespeare to Tolkien, and historical dramas penned by more modern authors.

“Help yourself to reading material,” he said.  “There are more books in my study.  I can show you later, if you like.”

“You must read a lot,” she observed, and he raised a brow.

“There are times when I have contemplated becoming a hermit,” he said.  “Shutting out the world entirely and losing oneself in fantasy is an appealing prospect.”

Belle chuckled.  “You don’t need to convince me,” she said.  “Sounds a little lonely, though.”

He inclined his head.  “Well, I’m used to that.”

She put down the book she had been looking at, turning to face him.

“Don’t you have any family?” she asked, and he shook his head.

“None living.”  His eyes bored into her.  “What about you?”

She turned away hurriedly, pulling out another book to give her hands something to do.

“None that I want to talk about.”

There was a moment of silence.  She could  _ feel  _ him, that heavy presence in the air around her, sparks of electricity dancing across her skin, as though he could touch her without moving from his seat.  It made her heart thump, her belly clenching with a strange, tugging sensation she couldn’t explain.

“You know, I might find it easier to keep you safe if you tell me what you’re so afraid of,” he said quietly.

“I didn’t ask for your protection.”  

She shoved the book back into its place without looking at it, fingers resting on the shelf in front of her.  

“But you have it nonetheless.”

She heard him stand, the rustle of his clothing and the tap of his cane as he approached.

“You can’t protect me,” she whispered.  “I’m grateful for everything you’re doing, really I am, but I can’t stay here long.  You’ll be hurt if I stay.”

“You’re shaking.”

He put a gentle hand on her shoulder, and she flinched, but he let it rest there.

“Look at me, Belle,” he said quietly.

She turned reluctantly, her eyes on the floor, on the shining ends of his shoes, and he crooked a finger under her chin, gently lifting her head so that he could look her in the eyes.  His hair had swept forwards a little, framing his face, and for a moment she wanted to touch him, to cup his cheek and feel the rasp of his stubble against her palm, to run her thumb over his lower lip.  He was gazing at her calmly, the warmth of understanding and compassion in his eyes.

“I’ll keep you safe,” he said.  “No one will hurt you while you’re with me, Belle.  I promise.”


	7. "Don't Call Me That!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kixxar prompted - 9: “Don’t call me that!”

She was restless that night, the bed far larger than she was used to, and consequently she was quiet at the breakfast table, pushing her toast around the plate and not really eating it.  Gold watched her over the rim of his coffee cup, speaking quietly to her about what he planned to do that day.  He poured her more coffee without her having to ask, and by the time they ventured out to go to the shop she was feeling a little more alert.

He had suggested that they walk, given that it was a fine day, if cold, and she was content to stroll by his side in silence, the winter breeze chilling her skin.  The few townsfolk they passed shot her curious looks, and she blushed a little as she recalled what he had said.  What they were thinking of her.  And of him.  Gold merely nodded to those they passed, and she noticed that his eyes narrowed if anyone crossed the street to avoid him.  

“I imagine they don’t have the rent,” he said, when she mentioned it.  “Oh, I’ll get them later, worry not.”

He shot her a toothy grin, which she couldn’t help countering with a roll of her eyes.  It seemed to amuse him.  

Once inside the shop, he led her into the back room, lifting a large trunk onto the workbench there and stepping back with an expectant look on his face.

“What’s this?” she asked, and he shrugged a little.

“I thought you could do with something else to wear,” he said.  “I’m afraid Storybrooke isn’t exactly overrun with designer outlets.  I could take you shopping at some point, if we can find the time and inclination to leave town, but see if there’s anything in here that you could use in the meantime.”

Belle opened up the case, and he left her to it, walking through to the shop as the bell rang to indicate a customer.  The case was filled with folded women’s clothing,and she pawed through it eagerly.  Some of it could have been made for her; there were tiny skirts and dresses perfect for her petite form, and even some shoes that would fit her small feet.  She laid out what she thought would suit, and looked around, spying a painted silk screen that was propped in a corner next to a pile of old trunks.  Snatching up some of the clothes, she ducked behind it, and stripped off the jeans and shirt she was wearing, slipping into one of the dresses and pulling it up.

“Belle, could you just..?”  Gold’s voice cut off, and she peered over the top of the screen to see him watching her.  “What _are_ you doing?”

“Changing,” she said.  “Could you zip me up?”

He blinked, but then nodded, walking over to the screen.  She turned her back, sweeping her hair out of the way, and felt his hands on her waist, stroking over the grey wool of the little dress.

“It suits you,” he murmured, and she felt his fingers grip the zipper, pulling it upwards.  One hand rested on her shoulder, and he turned her to face him, Belle letting her curls fall back around her shoulders as she smiled up at him.

“Perfect fit,” she said, running her hands down over her waist.

“Perfect,” he echoed, and took a step back.  “You look lovely, Miss Marchland.”

“Don’t call me that!” she said sharply, and sighed at his stricken look.  “I’m sorry, it’s just - that name - I don’t want to hear it.  Ever again, if I can help it.  Could you just call me Belle?”

“Of course,” he said, after a moment.  “Forgive me, I wasn’t aware you had such an - aversion - to your true identity.”

“Not your fault.”  She realised that she was hugging herself protectively, and let her arms fall.  “Thank you for the clothes.”

“Well, they look better on you than on me,” he quipped, and she giggled.

“Try the shoes,” he added, gesturing to the case with a twirl of his fingers.  “In fact, I have no objection if you want to try everything on twice.  Rent’s been collected for the week, so today should be quiet.”

He sauntered back out, and Belle slipped a pair of heels on, turning this way and that before an old mirror.  After months of travelling in battered jeans and dusty boots, it was good to feel more like her old self.  The fact that he thought she looked lovely had no bearing on the matter, of course. ****


	8. "What Are You Doing In My House?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous promoted: 41
> 
> There's a teeny bit of non-con in this chapter, but it gets resolved courtesy of Gold's cane :)

It was hard to get used to, feeling settled.  Feeling safe.  She tried not to, because she knew it couldn’t last.  Not with who was chasing her, anyway.  Every time she thought she had outrun them, they would find her, and she hadn’t yet worked out how they were doing it.  The first thing she had done was dispose of her cellphone, so they couldn’t track her.  Perhaps young girls travelling alone were unusual enough to be remarked upon by those she passed, but she didn’t think so.  As the days passed, and the end of her second week approached with no sign of her pursuers, she felt her shoulders loosen a little.  Perhaps this time she really had outrun them.

Gold remained something of a mystery, a small, compact package of intelligence and sarcasm, but with what she suspected was a need for human contact that he tried to hide from everyone but her.  He was strict with his tenants, but if someone was really in a bad place that was not of their making he could be persuaded to be lenient.  She had persuaded him herself once or twice, and he had gotten this tiny little smile on his face, as though he was proud of her for talking him out of evicting someone.  Theirs was a strange relationship, formed from desperation on her part, and something resembling loneliness on his.  She wondered at his past, what had happened in his life, but he was as secretive as she, and so they danced around one another with quips and teasing comments, neither one saying anything meaningful.  He hadn’t tried to pry into her reasons for running since her first night at his house, and she was grateful for it.

It was late afternoon on her twelfth day in Storybrooke when everything changed.

She had been cataloguing some new purchases, dusting each piece and listing its description and purchase price in one of the heavy ledgers that Gold kept under his counter for the purpose.  The sun was setting, orange light shining in through the window, and she watched him out of the corner of her eye as he worked on an old watch, probing delicately with the tiny tweezers he had used to pick dirt and lint from the mechanism.  She liked to watch him work, the delicate touch of his fingers against tiny cogs and wheels and running over worked silver and polished wood, and it made her wonder what it would feel like if he were to touch her, to peel apart the layers of thin silk and cotton that she now wore and caress her skin.

Sometimes she wondered whether he found her as attractive as she found him, this careful, quiet man with the air of menace, of darkness, a core of rage and fire and steel that she could sense below the surface.  She had caught him looking at her with a softness in his eyes once or twice, and he was tactile, touching her shoulder or arm or the small of her back as they walked or talked over things in the shop.  He was so calm, so contained, and she had found herself thinking of him in the dark of the night, wondering what he might be like if he ever lost control.  The thought was oddly alluring, and she tried to put him from her mind, looking away from him and closing up the ledger.

“I’m done with that,” she announced, and he murmured an acknowledgement as she carried the ledger back through to stow it beneath the counter.  Shadows were creeping across the shop, long fingers of darkness reaching for her, and she trotted to the front window to close the blinds, ready to shut up shop.  It was then that she saw him.

A man was standing on the other side of the road, talking into a cellphone and gesturing as he did so. He was dark-haired, tall, and what most women would call attractive.  Not her though.  Heart hammering in her chest, she almost leaped back from the blinds, shaking in fear.  Just the one man, but his partner wouldn’t be far behind, perhaps hiding until night fell.  She suspected it was hard for him to show his face in public after what she, in her desperation, had done to him.  They had found her.  Just as she had known they would, and now she was in danger.  And so was Gold.

She thought quickly, trying to decide what to do for the best.  Gold had paid her the day before, and so she had plenty of money.  If she could get back to the house and collect the few things she had before they realised where she was, she could be one step ahead of them.  She took a deep breath to calm herself, and strode through to the back room, picking up her coat and shrugging it on.

“I thought I’d go home and start dinner,” she said, keeping her voice light.  Gold looked around briefly.

“It was my turn to cook,” he said, and she shrugged.

“That’s okay, you’re busy.”

“Give me ten minutes and I’ll be ready,” he said, but she was already heading for the back door.

“Don’t worry, I’ll see you back at home!” she said cheerfully, and shoved the door shut behind her before breaking into a run, keeping out of sight of the main road.

She had gotten to know the back streets of Storybrooke fairly well, having accompanied Gold on his rent collection rounds once or twice.  She put all her knowledge to use now, sprinting from alley to warehouse to garden, until she was running into the road where the pink Victorian stood.

Her hands shook so much she could barely unlock the door, but at last she was inside, and she hurried up the stairs to grab her bag, shoving clothing into it.  The sound of footsteps in the hall made her sigh.  He wasn't supposed to have returned so soon.  It would have been painful enough to slip away and know that she would never see him again, but now she was going to have to confront him, explain that she was leaving.  No doubt he’d try to stop her.

Shouldering her bag, she padded downstairs, figuring he would have entered the kitchen, which was where he usually went after work.

“I’m sorry,” she began.  “Really I am, but I have to go…”

Her voice trailed off as she realised that the figure standing by the sink wasn’t Gold.  The man turned towards her, drawing a kitchen knife from the block on the sideboard with a low, threatening whisper of metal against wood.  He grinned at her, dark hair falling over his forehead, blue eyes gleaming.  His name was Jones, and he was a killer.  She had seen that first hand.

“Oh, you’re not going anywhere, my lovely,” he said.  “Not after the merry dance you’ve led us these last few months.”

Belle backed up hurriedly, and screamed as arms went around her.  She fought, kicking, but the grip tightened, squeezing the breath from her.

“Not so fast, girl,” rasped a voice.  Nott, his vile partner in crime, if she wasn’t mistaken.  “I still owe you for the damage you did to me, remember?”

“Just kill her,” said Jones in a bored voice, gesturing with the knife.  “Kill her and cut out her heart and take it back to him, like we agreed.”

“That was before she cut my face open!” he snapped, and dropped his hand to her breast, squeezing hard.  Belle bit the inside of her cheeks to keep from screaming.

“Improvement if you ask me,” said Jones, uninterested.  “Come on, for fuck’s sake!  Let me kill the wench and we can collect the bloody bounty!”

“I just need twenty minutes,” said Nott, and he drew his tongue up Belle’s cheek, making her moan in fear and disgust.  She kicked backwards, scraping her heel down his shin and ramming it into the top of his foot, and he swore loudly, stumbling backwards.

“Fucking _bitch_!” he roared, still clinging to her.  “You just made it _thirty_ minutes!”

“We don’t have time for this!” insisted Jones.

“Well, you’re certainly right about that,” came a familiar, welcome voice.  Nott’s grip loosened, and Belle pulled free, gasping for breath.  Gold was standing in the hallway, and she lunged, getting behind him, just as he stepped forward and brought his cane up into Nott’s groin with a crunch.  Nott dropped bonelessly, and Jones took a step back, knife in hand and a wary expression on his face.  Gold grounded his cane as though he hadn’t just incapacitated a man with it.

“I’m going to ask you a question,” he said calmly, staring at Jones with flat, black eyes.  “And I would suggest that you make the explanation you are about to give me _incredibly_ convincing.  What are you doing in my house?”


	9. "That Was a Perfect Example Of How Not To Do Things"

There was a moment of tense, awful silence.  Belle watched Jones as he weighed up Gold’s physique and bad leg, and assessed how much of a threat he could be.

“I’m waiting, dearie,” said Gold softly.

“Look, this is none of your concern,” said Jones.  “Just give us the girl, and we’ll be on our way.  No one has to get hurt.”

“By which you mean me?”  Gold chuckled mirthlessly.  “You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

“I could say the same for you.”  Jones grinned widely.  “Stay out of what doesn’t concern you, and I don’t care what you do.  Get in our way, and you’re a dead man walking.”

Gold eyed him steadily, the light of amusement in his eyes.

“This is really very simple, but let me break it down for you,” he said, in a bored voice, and shoved the unconscious form of Nott with the end of his cane.

“That,” he said, “was a perfect example of how  _ not  _ to do things.  People tend to underestimate me.  Those that don’t know me, anyway.  Your friend here will be nursing his balls for the next couple of weeks, I expect.  So it looks as though this is between you and me.”

“So it seems,” said Jones, eyes flicking between Gold and Belle, still gripping the knife.  Gold smiled briefly.

“Well, perhaps I got lucky,” he said pleasantly.  “Perhaps you’re the brains of the operation.”

“It’s still two against one, mate,” said Jones.  “Whether it’s today, tomorrow, or next bloody week, we’re not leaving until we take what we came for.”

“One of the two is unconscious, and won’t be able to walk when he finally wakes up,” said Gold, looking at his fingernails.  “So I suggest you put the knife down, and drag your unfortunate associate out of here.  If you don’t - well…”  He smiled without warmth.  “Then I’ll be forced to take that knife off you and shove it up your arse.”

Jones hesitated, eyes flicking from the knife and back to Gold.  He appeared to reach a decision, and shoved the knife back into its block with a whisper of metal, turning to hold his palms outward.

“Fine,” he said, showing his teeth in what was more of a grimace than a smile.  “We’ll get out of your hair, but this isn’t over.  Believe me.”

“Up the stairs, Belle,” said Gold calmly, and she trotted up a dozen steps, turning to watch as Gold stepped aside and let Jones bend to put his hands under Nott’s armpits.  He opened the front door, and Jones dragged the unconscious man out.

“Do be sure to hit his head on the steps,” called Gold, and slammed the door after them, turning to gaze up at Belle.  His face was grim.

“Pack a bag,” he said.  “I want you down here in five minutes.”

She was ready in three, adrenaline lending her speed, and soon they were driving out of town, Gold casting frequent glances in the rear-view mirror.

“They’ll find me,” said Belle.  “They always find me.”

He didn’t answer, turning the car off the main road onto a dirt track that led into the forest.  She held onto the door handle, the car bouncing over ruts, its passage somewhat softened by the carpet of pine needles.  Its headlights swept across the thick trunks of pine and maple, the trail carrying them deeper into the woods.

Just as she was about to ask him where they were going, the road levelled out, and Gold slowed the car, driving it in a sweeping turn around to the right.  It rolled to a stop, lights flaring on wooden walls.  She turned to look at him, and he smiled.

“Welcome to the cabin,” he said.  “You’ll be safe here.”

He got out of the car, walking around to open the door for her, and held out a hand to help her up.

“Inside,” he said quietly.  “I’ll make a fire, and then I think you and I need to have a conversation.”


	10. "If You Want, We Could Go Together"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @quinninthenorth prompted: 16 - if you want, we could go together

The cabin was cold, and Belle shivered a little as she watched him turn on lamps and squat before an open fireplace.  She looked around the cabin as he began stacking kindling, noting the couch and armchairs around the fireplace, a thick rug between them.  There was a small kitchen area with a table and two chairs to the side of it, and a dark corridor which she presumed led to the bathroom and sleeping quarters.  It seemed a comfortable retreat, and she wondered how often he came here.  Not that it would stop her pursuers from finding her, of course.  Nothing did.

Once the fire was going, Gold placed a couple of logs over the crackling flames and stood up, brushing ash from his hands and turning to her.

“Now,” he said, gesturing to the couch.  “Tell me about the men that are chasing you.”

“It’s because of my father…” she began, but he shook his head impatiently as he took a seat.

“I don’t need the back story yet, I need to know about _them_.  You said they always find you.  Tell me what happened since you started running.”

She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, trying to remember exactly what the sequence of events had been.  So much of it was a blur, terror and pain and sleepless nights and the feeling of constant dread.

“When I left home, I knew I’d be followed, so I hid my phone on a bus headed for Seattle,” she began.  “I thought that would throw them off the scent, and it seemed to, at first.  I went to New Orleans, instead.  Two weeks later, they were waiting for me outside the apartment block I was crashing in.  I ran before they saw me, took a bus to Atlanta.”

Gold nodded, patting the couch beside him, and she sat down, her legs shaking a little as she remembered what had happened.

“It only took them a few days the second time,” she said.  “I was sleeping in a warehouse when they found me.  Nott - the one you hit - he cornered me.  I - I’d managed to find a box cutter.  Slashed his face open.”

Gold nodded approvingly.  “And then?”

“After that I stayed away from the larger towns,” she said.  “Cut across country where I could, getting rides on farm trailers and tractors.  Slow going, but it’s not like I had a plan of where I wanted to end up.  I just knew I had to keep moving.”

“And they always found you,” he said, his tone grim, and she nodded.

“I have no idea how,” she said.  “I never saw any evidence of them putting the word out - I mean it’s not like they’d put my face on a milk carton, or anything - so I don’t know how they did it.  My father…”  She closed her eyes, swallowing hard.  “My father had a fairly large network of associates, but it never stretched as far as Maine, I don’t think.”

Gold tapped his fingers on his thigh, looking as though he was considering something.

“Do you have anything with you that you’ve carried from the start?” he asked then.  “A piece of jewellery, an item of clothing - anything that could be used to keep tabs on you?”

Belle blinked.  “I - well, there’s my mother’s locket, I guess.”

“May I see it?”

“Of course.”  She turned her back to him a little, lifting her hair with one hand to expose the nape of her neck.  “Would you mind?”

She felt his touch then, cool fingers on her skin, making her shiver.  He unclasped the thin gold chain, drawing the small locket from around her neck.  She expected him to sit back, but instead he ran his fingertips over her once more, his touch sweeping over her neck and beneath her shirt, across her shoulder.  A moment, only, and then his touch was gone, and he was holding the locket in his hands.

“Is that it?” she asked.  “Is that how they found me?”

Gold pressed against the edge of the locket, prising it open, but the inside was just as it had always been, empty apart from a lock of chestnut hair, the only relic Belle had to call her own.

“It’s not this,” he said, closing the locket, and pressed it into her hand.  “But I felt something on the back of your neck, just between your shoulder blades.  A lump, under your skin.”

“Oh!”  She laughed.  “Yeah, I’ve had that for a while.  It’s nothing.”

“Turn towards the light a little,” he said, and she obeyed, shivering as she felt his touch once more.

“Yes, I can see the lump,” he mused.  “Only a small thing.  You knew about it?”

“Yeah,” she said, unconcerned.  “I forget it’s there most of the time.  A benign cyst, or something.  My father said he’d called the doctor, asked if I should have it taken out, but it’s no problem.”

“There’s a scar,” he observed.  “Very small, very fine.  Has this been operated on at some point?”

Belle shook her head.  “No.  My father said it was nothing to worry about.  I’ve had it since…”  Her voice trailed off, a sinking feeling in her stomach.  Gold’s fingers were a firm, comforting pressure on her shoulders.

“Belle,” he said gently.  “I’m not sure what this is, but I want to take it out of you.  Is that okay?”

She nodded, wishing she could stop shaking.

“It’s going to hurt,” he added.  “Do you want something to bite, or squeeze?  Would that help?”

“Just get on with it,” she muttered, and he nodded.

“In that case, could you please put on one of my shirts?” he asked.  “Wear it back to front, so that your back is visible.”

“Like - like a hospital gown?” she asked, and he smiled.

“That’s right.  Is that okay?”

Moving somewhat woodenly, Belle got up and went into the dark corridor off to the left, where she found a bedroom containing a small closet with some of his clothes.  She pulled a shirt from its hanger, pressing the dark blue silk to her face and imagining she could smell him on it.  She laid it aside, unzipping the dress she was wearing and letting it fall.  After a moment, she decided to remove her bra too, and she slipped her arms through the sleeves of the shirt, leaving it open at the back.  She rolled up the sleeves a little, the tails of the shirt hanging down her pale thighs.

When she returned to the lounge area of the cabin, the fire had roared to life, filling the room with a pleasant heat.  Gold had set out gauze and antiseptic ointment and surgical tape.  A small, sharp knife sat beside him, and Belle eyed it warily.

“Please,” he said, gesturing to the couch, and she sat down, turning her back to him.

He pushed the silk apart, his touch light, and Belle sucked air in through her mouth, holding her breath.

“Ready,” he murmured, and all at once there was a sharp pain between her shoulder blades.  Belle bit back a cry, tears welling in her eyes.

“Good girl,” he said soothingly.  “Cry if you need to, we’re almost done.  I can see it.”

“See it?”  Her heart thumped.  “See what?  What is it?”

“It looks like metal,” he said.  “And it’s blinking.  The smallest red light, flashing away.”

Anger roared to life in her.  Anger and fear.

“A tracker?” she said bitterly.  “You mean they - they _tagged_ me like I was a fucking _dog_?”

“I’ll get it, Belle,” he said soothingly, and there was more pain, enough to make her cry out.  “There!  There, sweetheart, it’s out!  It’s okay.  It’ll be okay.”

She wept anew, hardly hearing him, and glared at the tiny bead of metal and plastic that he dropped on the slate hearth of the fire.  There was blood on it, and the tiniest grim red light, flashing away, announcing her presence to those looking for her.

“Get _rid_ of it!” she wept fiercely.

Gold got to his feet, striding from the cabin and returning with a long-handled axe.  A quick blow with the base of the handle and the tracker was dull and silent, a few scraps of metal on dark grey stone.  Belle couldn’t seem to stop crying, and he grasped her shoulder with a gentle hand, whispering soothing words to her as he cleaned the cut he had made with something that stung and burned.

“I think we should be alright with a couple of paper stitches,” he said quietly, and she wiped her eyes, trying to stop sobbing.  She felt pressure on her shoulder, a new flare of pain as he pressed paper stitches over the cut flesh.  Finally he folded some clean gauze and taped a pad of it over.

“There,” he said quietly, drawing the silk shirt around her.  “You’re safe.”

She nodded, although she didn’t entirely believe him, but she offered to make them some tea for something to do.  Gold said that he had a call to make, and went out to the rear of the cabin.  She pulled off the shirt, turning it around and pulling it on properly, her fingers shaking as she buttoned it.  She filled the kettle with water, hearing him speak, but unable to make out much of what he was saying, other than that he was offering an assignment to someone called Mr Dove.  He returned as she was pouring the tea, a weary smile brightening his face for a moment, and Belle carried their mugs over to the couch.

Her shoulder was painful, and she still felt violated over being tagged like an animal and hunted down, but it was calming to sit with him.  He made her feel safe, this small man with the smile that suggested he knew too much, and the way his eyes would soften when he looked at her.  She watched how the fire cast flickering light over his face, shadows cast by his cheekbones, warmth in the deep brown of his eyes as he glanced over.  That heavy, tugging sensation gripped her, low down in her belly, and she licked her lips, wanting to feel his touch, wanting that closeness, that comfort.  Gold looked away.

“It’s late,” he said eventually.  “You should go to bed.”

Belle put her mug down, swallowing as she tried to find the courage to ask for what she wanted.

“We could - we could go together,” she ventured, and he smiled briefly.

“I’m not tired, but you go on.  Choose either of the bedrooms, they’re very similar.”

“No…”  Belle closed her eyes, flicking them open again to meet his.  “I mean - to bed.  If - if you want, we could go together.”


	11. "I'm Okay"

Gold blinked at her, his expression one of surprise, but then his eyes narrowed.

“How old are you?” he asked.

“Old enough.”

She raised her chin, challenge in  her eyes, but he just stared at her.

“I’m twenty one,” she said, and his brows lowered.

“I told you never to lie to me again,” he said coldly, and her jaw worked a little.

“Fine!  I’m twenty,” she snapped, but his expression didn’t change.  “In a few weeks,” she amended, and he nodded.

“So,” she said.  “Did you - did you - want to?”

His silence seemed to last a long time, the only noise the crackle of flames, and the heavy throb of her pulse.  He looked away, pushing himself to his feet.

“You’ve been through a lot,” he said.  “You should get some rest.”

Belle looked at her hands, folded in her lap, trying to ignore the crushing disappointment and the sudden pain at his rejection.

“Right,” she muttered, folding her arms.

“I have to go out,” he said.  “I want you to stay here.  You’ll be quite safe, I promise.”

She didn’t answer, unable to look at him, and he sighed.

“Belle?  Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she said stiffly, aware that she was sounding like a sulky child.

“Would you look at me, please?”

She turned her head, and he was watching her calmly, hands folded over his cane.

“I shouldn’t be longer than an hour or so,” he said.

She nodded, feeling like an idiot, and he bent to gently cup her cheek with his palm, thumb stroking over her skin.

“You’ll be safe,” he repeated.  “Get some rest, Belle.”

She nodded, and his palm closed briefly over the swell of her cheek.

“Sleep,” he whispered.  “I’ll be back here very soon.”

She nodded, and then he was gone, disappearing like smoke on the evening wind, and she wanted to go with him, to know what he did in the shadows. She wondered if anyone ever told him 'no'.


	12. "I've Never Killed Anyone Before"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @bluebirdofhappiness prompted: "Can I get 7?"

“Wait!”  

She ran after him, out of the cabin, and Gold turned as he opened the car door.

“I want to come with you,” she said, and he shook his head, frowning.

“No.  Stay here.”  

He got in, shutting the door, and she opened up the passenger door and slipped into the seat beside him.  Gold raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not safe for you to come with me,” he said, an edge of impatience in his voice.

“How do I know I’ll be safe here?” she asked.  “You only just destroyed the tracker, what if they followed us here and they’re waiting for you to go?”

“They’re not,” he said.  “I have someone keeping an eye on them.”

“Well, what if Jones and Nott aren’t the only ones my father sent?  What if there’s someone else out there?”

He showed his teeth.  “Then they’ll meet the same fate as the others.  Trust me, Belle.  You’re safer here.”

“I’m scared for you,” she said softly.  “You don’t know these guys.  They’re killers, both of them.”

Gold sighed, but he put a comforting hand on hers, squeezing gently.

“Don’t worry,” he said.  “It’s not as though I’ve never killed anyone before.”

She stared at him, her heart thumping heavily.  He was watching her calmly, and for a moment she could see past the warm expression in his eyes to the darkness beneath.  He was dangerous, perhaps more so than the men chasing her.  It should have frightened her, but it didn’t.  She nodded.

“Okay,” she said.  “Okay, I’ll stay.  But please be careful.”

He grinned at her then, as though she’d said something ridiculous, and impulsively she leaned in to press her lips to his cheek.  She could smell his cologne, and the musk of his own scent, the growth of new stubble scraping her delicate skin.

“Stay safe and come back to me,” she whispered.


	13. "You're Supposed to Talk Me Out of This"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous prompted: 14 or 15 or 17 or 22 idek I just need more of the Rumbelle thing you got going on!
> 
> 14: "You're supposed to talk me out of this"

Gold kept the car at a steady pace as he drove towards Storybrooke.  He couldn’t help smiling to himself at Belle’s worries for his safety.  Not that he had any intention of underestimating his enemies, of course, but her assumption that he was somehow less dangerous than the two men he faced was laughable.  It had been some time since he had been called upon to be anything more than menacing, and he was enjoying the surge of rage and adrenaline that the threats to Belle’s safety had caused.  She had burst into his world and turned it upside down, and he had never felt more alive.

He could still feel where she had kissed him, as though the imprint of her lips was burned into his skin.  Her offer of sex had surprised him, and he wasn’t made of stone; she was extremely beautiful and far too good for him, but he had allowed himself to wonder for a moment how it might feel to kiss her, to hold her.  To take her to bed.  He knew that he was in love with her, fool that he was, and for her to even suggest that she might feel the same way had made his heart swell.  She had been through a lot, though, and the last thing he wanted for her was to regret anything that might happen between them.  He may be a bastard, as any of his tenants would attest, but to give in to his own desires when she was scared and in pain - well, he hadn’t quite sunk that low.

The lights of Storybrooke were up ahead, and he turned the car down a side street, heading for the docks.  The streets were deserted, but there was a large white van outside one of the warehouses, and Gold smiled to himself.  Dove was as reliable as ever.  He pulled the Cadillac to a stop, getting out, and the van opened, the tall, intimidating figure of Dove stepping out and nodding to him, the light from a nearby streetlamp gleaming on his bald head.

“Any problems?” asked Gold, and Dove shook his head.

“Some whining and bleating from both of them, but nothing I haven’t heard before,” he said, in his soft voice.  “How’s the girl?”

“Scared,” admitted Gold.  “And more scared for me, if you can imagine it.  I think you’re supposed to talk me out of this.”

Dove chuckled.  “Wouldn’t dream of it, sir.”

“Good man.”  Gold nodded to the van.  “Shall we?”

Dove opened up the rear doors, and Gold took a moment to look over the two men bound hand and foot, rags stuffed in their mouths to serve as impromptu gags.  They glared balefully at him, but he was pleased to see that there was an edge of fear in their eyes.  Good.  He favoured them with his most evil smile.

"Ah, gentlemen," he said pleasantly.  "How good of you to join me.  This'll only take a moment."


	14. "Everything Was Fine Until You Showed Up"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @whitesheepcbd prompted: Prompt #47 and/or #36
> 
> 36\. “Everything was fine, until you showed up.”
> 
> 47\. “I can think of a million places I’d rather be right now.”

Nott and Jones were watching him with narrowed eyes, each with a darkened lump on his forehead.  Dove had been heavy-handed, it seemed.  Excellent.

“You took their phones?” asked Gold, and Dove nodded, reaching into his pocket and pulling out two slim black phones.

“Several calls made in the last twenty four hours, all to a number in Phoenix,” he said.  “I haven’t started looking into their internet access yet.”

“I can do that.”  Gold looked over the phones, and slipped them into his inside pocket.  “Did you sort out a disposal method?”

“Anton’s still happy for us to make use of the pig farm,” said Dove.  “I’ll take them straight up there once you’re done.”

There were noises of protest from the two men in the back of the van, both of them mumbling against the gags they wore, and Gold smiled, ignoring them.

“Good.  Give Anton a bonus for the trouble,” he said.  “What else did you find on them?”

“Two Glocks, a couple of knives, and two assault rifles in the trunk of their Chevy.  Oh, and a body bag.”

“Well, what foresight.”  Gold grinned at the two men.  “Though perhaps two might have made things easier.  Still, I’m certain we can put their belongings to good use, what do you say?”

“Certainly, sir.”

“Let me see one of the knives.”

Dove nodded, going to the front of the van.  He returned moments later with a sharp-bladed hunting knife, gleaming in the light.  Gold looked it over, weighing it in the palm of his hand and tapping a fingernail against the blade.

“A quality weapon,” he said, eyeing the two men in front of him.  “So the only question is, who goes first?”

Nott and Jones started mumbling again, shuffling on the floor of the van in their bonds.

“You want to get inside?” asked Dove, and Gold nodded, using his cane to push himself up into the rear of the van.  Dove got in beside him, flicking on one of the ceiling lights and casting a pale, cheerless glow over the interior.  Gold gestured with the knife.

“Let them speak,” he said, and Dove tugged at the gags, pulling them free.  Jones hawked and spat, glaring at them.

“Look, this is all a misunderstanding,” he said.  “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but if you don’t let us go, there’ll be hell to pay, believe me.”

Gold squatted on his heels, staring as he bounced the blade of the knife on his palm.

“All we want is the girl,” added Nott.  “You’re fucking her, is that it?  I mean, I get it, but she’s not worth getting yourself killed over.”

“Did I not almost castrate you enough?” asked Gold, in a freezing voice.  “I find it fascinating that the two of you are tied up on the floor of this van, and you somehow think it’s me that’s in danger.”

“Look, mate,” said Jones patiently.  “The guy we work for never loses.  You may be King Shit in this backwater, but we’re big time, understand?”

“Well, we all bleed the same way,” said Gold, uninterested.

“We can come to some arrangement,” said Jones, with a white-toothed smile.  Gold imagined that had gotten him out of all kinds of scrapes in the past, but it was wasted on him.  “What do you want?  Money?  Weapons?  I’m sure we can work something out.  There’s no need to burn your bridges here.”

Gold was silent for a moment, watching them.  They didn’t take their eyes off him, their breathing shallow and rapid with fear.  He could taste it in the air around them, an almost-forgotten vintage first drunk years earlier.  They thought he was considering it, that he would agree to a deal.  Everyone had a price, after all.

“I was content,” he said quietly.  “Almost happy, or at least as near to happy as someone like me gets.  A thriving business.  A beautiful home filled with precious objects.  Oh, I had to endure the censure of the town whenever I insisted on contracts being followed to the letter, but that never bothered me.”

“Surely a little money would ensure that business continues,” began Jones, but Gold held up a hand, the knife glinting, cutting him off.

“And then  _ she _ came,” he said.  “And all at once I had the one thing that had been missing.  Someone to care for.  Someone to protect.  Someone to make me laugh at myself.  Everything was suddenly, wonderfully perfect.”

Nott and Jones exchanged an uneasy look, shuffling in their bonds a little.

“Everything was fine until you showed up,” Gold went on, his tone eerily calm.  “And now I have to spend my evening dealing with  _ this _ crap.”

“Buddy, if you touch either one of us, you’re a dead man!” snapped Nott, and Gold shook his head sadly.

“I can think of a million places I’d rather be right now, with one in particular making the top of that list,” he said.  “And instead I have to sit here and listen to the pathetic ramblings of two men who will soon be dead as they attempt to threaten me and the one person I care about most in the world.”

He pushed himself to his feet, nodding to Dove.

“Get them up,” he said curtly.  “I’ll make it quick.”


	15. "There's Blood on Your Hands"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous prompted: Rumbelle 5!
> 
> 5: “There's blood on your/my hands”

The time since Gold had left seemed to drag, and Belle paced the cabin, rubbing her hands together and feeling cold despite the roaring fire.  She was still wearing his shirt, that connection with him somehow linked in her mind with his survival, his return.  Nonetheless she was tense and worried.  Gold’s response to the threats to her safety had both surprised and reassured her, but assuming Nott was conscious again, it was still two against one, and she knew that the men had guns as well as knives.  The pain in her shoulder had dulled somewhat and was now a heavy throb, a constant reminder of her father tagging her, haunting her steps, tracking her down.  She counted her paces as she walked to and fro, trying to distract herself from the slow passage of time.

After an hour had passed she started worrying properly, and telling herself that she should have insisted on going with him.  At least then she would know what was going on, and whether he was alive or dead.  If he was dead, of course, she would need to run again, and the thought made her want to cry.  She had been happy with him, however briefly.  She had felt as though she belonged, as though he cared for her as much as she cared for him.  To leave, knowing that she was responsible for his death, would break her heart.

The sound of a car engine outside made her run to the door and pull it open, her heart hammering with hope and fear.  She sagged with relief as she saw him pull up in front of the cabin, and he turned off the headlights and got out of the car, limping over to her and shaking his hair back.

“Oh thank God!” she blurted.

He grinned at that, raising an eyebrow.

“I very much doubt he would want to claim responsibility for my safety, considering the circumstances,” he said dryly.  “You may want to thank the other one instead.”

She threw herself on him, making him stumble a little, and hugged him hard.  Gold put an arm around her, using the other to keep his balance with the cane.

“Is it over?” she asked, her voice muffled by his coat.

“It’s over,” he said quietly.  “They’ll never bother you or anyone else again.”

He was stroking her back with a soothing hand, and she sighed in relief before pulling back and looking him over.

“There's blood on your hands,” she observed, and he looked down.

“Ah.  Well, I suppose that’s an occupational hazard of cutting someone’s throat,” he said.  “Let me go and clean up; I’m sure you don’t want to sit looking at that.”

She stood aside, following him into the cabin, and closed the door behind them.  He went through to the bathroom, and she listened to the sound of running water as he washed.  He had killed them, then.  She wasn’t anywhere near as uncomfortable with that as she probably ought to be.  After a minute or two he came back through, his hands clean.  He had taken off his jacket and tie and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, baring his forearms, and the top three buttons on his shirt were undone, showing a triangle of his lightly-tanned chest.  She couldn’t stop staring at his exposed skin, and raised her eyes to his to distract herself.

“Are we staying?” she asked.  “Are we staying here tonight?”

He raised an eyebrow.  “Do you want to?”

“Yes.”

“Then we’ll stay.”  He reached up to brush her cheek with a finger.  “I’d like to hear the rest of your tale.”


	16. “Something about you makes me want to commit extreme violence”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @maplesyrupao3 prompted: Hello! I submit 26 and/or 33 for your delightful prompts verse, mostly because I'm hoping it will lead to naked times!
> 
> 33: “Something about you makes me want to commit extreme violence”

Gold stepped back from her then, gesturing to the kitchenette.  She could still feel the ghost of his touch on her cheek.

“Would you like a glass of wine?” he offered, running fingers through his hair.  “I was going to pour one for myself.”

“I would,” she said.  “Thank you.”

She watched as he went to the kitchenette and reached into one of the cupboards, pulling out a bottle of red wine.  Suddenly uncertain of herself, she went to put more wood on the fire, making sparks leap and dance.  She heard the low pop of the cork coming free, and then the thick glug of pouring liquid.  Gold carried two glasses over, tented between thumb and fingers, his other hand on the handle of his cane.  She could see the faint print of his thumb on the glass below the rim as she took the glasses from him, placing them on the small coffee table.

“Aren’t you cold?” he asked, looking her up and down, and she shook her head.

“Fire’s warm,” she said.  “I put some more wood on it.”

He nodded, lowering himself onto the couch, and after a moment she sat beside him.  He let his head roll back with a sigh, a low, rumbling noise escaping him as he relaxed, and she watched the way his throat bobbed when he swallowed, wanting to press her lips to his skin and feel his warmth.

“I was worried for you,” she ventured, and he smiled, one of his sly, toothy smiles that hinted at something dark in him, something dangerous, the beast within that she could sense, but didn’t fear.

“You needn’t have been,” he said.  “The outcome was a foregone conclusion.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.  “I’m sorry that you - that you had to do what you did.  I’m sorry you had to kill for me.”

He was silent for a moment, and she listened to his even breathing above the crackle of flames and the snap of wood in the fire.

“Why did you do it?” she whispered.  “You barely know me.  They could have killed you.”

“I’m still here, aren’t I?” he said, and there was a light of weariness in his eyes.

“You could have let them take me,” she said.  “But you didn’t.  And your first instinct wasn’t to call the police, or ask who they were, it was to get me away from them and arrange with someone to watch them so you could turn up and kill them.”

Gold was still silent, turning the wineglass between his fingers, and she shook her head.

“Who _are_ you?” she asked softly, and he pulled a face, his mouth twisting.

“The more pertinent question is, who _was_ I,” he said.  “And who I was - well, let’s just say that Storybrooke has as many secrets as it has small-town charms.  I was someone very different before I came here.”

“Were you running, like me?” she asked.  “Hiding?”

He sucked his teeth for a moment, lips pursing, a slight gleam of moisture on them in the low light of the lamps.  It made her want to press her thighs together.

“I was changing,” he said finally.  “Perhaps I still am, who knows?”

“Into what?” she asked, and he shrugged.

“Into someone a little more content and a little less self-loathing,” he remarked dryly.

Belle sighed, his evasive answers irritating her.

“But someone who has no issue with tracking and killing two highly dangerous men,” she said.  “So I think it’s safe to say you weren’t a Sunday school teacher.”

He laughed at that, the sound deep and rich.

“Indeed not.”

There was a moment of silence, and she waited for him to speak.  He took another swallow of wine, swilling it around his mouth before swallowing.

“It’s been a while,” he said at last, and let his head roll towards hers, dark eyes seeking her out.  “And I can’t say that it was a part of my life that I missed.”

She nodded, and he grinned, stroking a finger along the length of her nose.  

“But it turns out that something about you makes me want to commit extreme violence against anyone who tries to harm you,” he added.

Belle sent him a wobbly smile.

“I suppose I shouldn’t say that that’s possibly the most comforting thing I ever heard, but here we are,” she said lightly, and he chuckled, looking away and taking another drink of his wine.

Belle sipped at her own, savouring the rich taste of it and watching him over the rim of her glass.

“You’re not afraid of me,” he said then.

“No.”  She turned towards him a little, drawing her knees up on the couch.  “I spent my whole life around dangerous men.  I can tell which ones I should be afraid of.”

“Like your father?”  He turned his head towards her, his expression curious and somehow sympathetic, and she dropped her eyes for a moment.

“Yeah.”

“Do you - want to tell me about him?” he asked, and she chewed her lip, looking down at the rippling surface of her wine, and back up to him.

“His name is Maurice Marchland,” she said at last, and Gold nodded, as though he already knew that.  Perhaps he did.

“He has most of his business interests in the South West,” she added.  “Phoenix is his main base, but he also runs some of his cover businesses out of Tucson, and up into Utah and Nevada.”

Gold nodded again, and she took another drink to wet her throat.

“He deals in drugs, mainly,” she went on.  “Sometimes guns, or counterfeit goods.  He has a large network of associates in the US and abroad, which is why I came here.  I thought he wouldn’t find me here.”

“And he wants you dead.”

“Yeah.”  The word was a whisper, barely audible over the crackling flames.

“What did you do?” he asked softly, and she hesitated.

“It’s not what I _did_ ,” she said.  “It’s what I _saw_.”


	17. "I didn't intend to kiss you"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @tinuviel-undomiel prompted: Outsider prompt: 26
> 
> 26: “I didn’t intend to kiss you”

“And what did you see?” asked Gold.

Belle shifted uncomfortably, the memory making her shiver.

“My - my father has always been very controlling,” she said, the words wanting to stick in her throat.  “Not just with me, of course.  With the men that work for him.  With my mother.”

She flicked her eyes across to him, but he was silent, letting her tell her tale in her own time.  Somehow it made it easier.

“My mother was never involved in any of his schemes,” she said.  “Oh, don’t get me wrong, she knew who he was.   _What_ he was.  She was complicit in that sense, I guess.  He controlled every aspect of her life, but she tried to keep the worst of it from me.”

She turned her glass around in her hands, chewing her lower lip.

“When he was running guns or drugs or bringing fake goods over from Mexico she didn’t say a word,” she went on.  “But then - then he started bringing people.  Girls, mainly.  Young girls.”

Gold nodded, and she felt relief at not having to explain further.

“She came to me in the middle of the night,” she said, and shook her head.  “God, she was so _scared_!  I could almost taste it.  He was - violent.  With both of us.  But she knew what he was doing, and she knew she had to try to stop it.  So she asked for my help.”

“What did you do?” he asked quietly, and she hesitated.

“I hacked into the surveillance systems,” she said.  “It was easy, really, I’m pretty good with that sort of stuff.  I set a program to record everything that went on in his warehouses and uploaded it to a private server.  All the trucks that came in and out, and their - cargo.  She wanted evidence, you see.  Evidence she could go straight to the feds with.  Evidence that couldn’t be ignored, or hushed up by the cops he’d bought.”

She took another swallow of wine, the alcohol burning her throat a little.

“Anyway, we got the footage we needed,” she said.  “And I took pictures of any pieces of evidence I could lay my hands on.  I even hacked his emails, and some of the guys that worked for him.  She was going to make the call...”

She could feel herself starting to shake, her hands trembling, the wine sloshing in her glass.

“I - I have no idea how or when he found out what she was doing,” she said.  “But he came home one night and - oh God, I could see it in his face.”  She shook her head.  “He told me to go upstairs, and she just - she just _sat_ there with this look in her eyes, like she was already dead.”

She took a large swallow of wine, shivering, and he put a hand on her shoulder, a warm, comforting weight.

“I went out of the room,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady and calm.  “But I stayed outside, listening, watching.  I watched…”  She closed her eyes, swallowing hard.  “I watched as he beat her.  He asked her who else knew, who else had betrayed him, and she said nothing.  She never gave me away.”  

She took a deep breath, trying to ignore the memories in her head, the terrible events that had haunted her dreams and stolen her rest.  

“I watched him take out his gun,” she said, the words painful in her throat.  “I watched - I watched him kill her.”

His hand squeezed her, rubbing gently, and she began to shake harder, the pain and grief that she had tried to block out almost too much to bear.

“I couldn’t _move_!” she whispered.  “I couldn’t - it was - it was like I _froze_!”

“I understand,” he said softly.  “It wasn’t your fault, Belle.”

“But I didn’t _do_ anything!” she protested.  “I just - I just _stood_ there!  And I was _so_ scared I thought I’d faint!”

She threw back the last of the wine, and Gold pushed to his feet, going to fetch the bottle.  He refilled her glass, and she drew a shaking hand across her mouth.

“There’s nothing you could have done,” he said gently.

“I could have done _something_!” she insisted.  “I could have done _anything_ rather than just _stand_ there terrified!  She gave her life to keep me safe!”

“You got away.”  His voice was soothing.  “That’s what she wanted.  You got away from him.”

“Yeah,” she said dryly.  “Kind of short-lived, though.  I ran away before he could see me.  Ran and hid.  He called my cellphone, told me to come back, that everything was fine, and I was so scared, so - so _stupid_ that I blurted out everything.  That I’d seen him kill Mum.  That I knew what he was, what he’d been doing.  That it wasn’t just her that had betrayed him.  I told him he’d pay.  I told him I’d _make_ him pay.”

She was more angry than upset now, her body shaking with rage and fear, and Gold’s fingers strayed to her hair, stroking it back from her face, his touch soothing.

“In hindsight that wasn’t too clever,” she muttered.  “They’ve been on my tail ever since.  At first I thought they just wanted to take me back to him like a bloody runaway teen, but then Nott pulled a knife on me and told me he was - he was going to _have_ me.”  She shuddered at the memory, at what would have happened had she not slashed him with that box-cutter.  “I knew then there was a price on my head.”

“Will he send others?” asked Gold, and she turned to face him, leaning into his touch a little.

“Loyalty is the most important thing to him,” she said wryly.  “He can’t be seen to let someone get away with betraying him.  Especially not his own daughter.  So yeah, I guess he will.”

He nodded, pursing his lips a little.  “And the evidence?”

“Safe.”  She took another drink.  “It’s safe.  I sent it to a friend.  A friend he doesn’t know exists.”

“Or so you think,” he remarked.  “We should go and see this friend of yours, take it off her hands.”

“ _His_ hands,” she corrected.  “And yeah, I guess you’re right.  I should leave before someone else turns up.”

He nodded.  “We leave in the morning.”

She set down her glass, turning to him with a tiny smile.

“You’ll come?” she asked.  “You don’t have to, you know.  You have a life here.”

He watched her for a long moment, the firelight flickering across his face.

“I want you safe,” he said quietly.  “So yes, I do have to.  We leave in the morning.”

A shiver went through her at his words, at the calm certainty in them, the dark hints of what he would do to anyone that threatened her, and she reached out, putting a hesitant hand on his thigh.  His leg was firm and very warm through the thin, fine wool of his pants, and she swallowed, trying to put as much meaning into her gaze as she could.

“Thank you,” she said.  “For taking me in.  For saving my life, for - everything.”

“You’re very welcome.”

He smiled, a brief curl of his lips, and she wondered whether there was any softness in him.  Whether he would taste as dark and dangerous as he clearly was.  Whether he would be gentle, or whether his kiss would be so hard and passionate that it would hurt in the best way.  She wanted to find out.  She wanted him.

Belle shifted closer, pressing her bare leg up against him, her hand sliding down his inner thigh, and heard his breathing quicken a little.  Raising her eyes to his, she saw that his pupils had widened, his eyes almost black, his lips slightly parted.  She could smell him, that comforting, familiar scent that hung about him and made her breath catch and her heart thump.  His chest was rising and falling, the light from the lamps making the silk of his shirt gleam, and she wanted to touch him, to pull open another button of that shirt and slip her hand inside to feel his skin against hers.  The tip of her tongue slipped out to wet her lips, and he glanced at her mouth.  They were close, so close, and she could feel his breath, cool against her skin.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and pressed her lips to his.

There was a moment, a brief, glorious moment, when he kissed her back.  His lips softened and pulled at the touch of hers, and she was sure that it would lead - somewhere.  But then he pulled back, lifting a hand to touch her cheek.

“There’s no need to thank me, Belle,” he said.  “Not like that.”

She sat back with a sigh, pain stabbing at her.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” she muttered.

“You didn’t,” he said gently.  “But you’ve been through a lot, and I don’t want you to regret anything, that’s all.  You don’t owe me any thanks, least of all in that way.”

“Do you think I didn’t intend to kiss you before?” she asked.  “I’ve wanted to kiss you almost from the first day we _met_!”

He blinked in surprise, and she rolled her eyes.

“I wasn’t doing it to _thank_ you,” she said.  “I was doing it because I _wanted_ to.  Because I want _you_.”

He was staring at her, his breath still coming hard in his chest, and she caught her lower lip between her teeth anxiously as she met his gaze.

“Do you - do you want me?” she asked.


	18. "I Will If You Will"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @nirvigedearie prompted: I love the Outsider! It's very hard to choose a prompt, I'd like to see them all in this fic! But I picked another one, (if you doesn't have it already) : 24 "I will if you will"
> 
> Also prompted by @tinuviel-undomiel and @mannibanani

****Gold didn’t speak for a moment, and she felt like screaming.

“I want you,” she repeated.  “I don’t just mean that I want to kiss you, I want _all_ of you.  And - and it feels like you want _me_ , but you’re holding back.  Is that true?”

His mouth twitched a little, but then he reached up, brushing a curl of her hair from her forehead.

“Yes,” he said softly.  “Yes, I want you, Belle.  Of course I do.”

“So what’s the problem?” she asked.  “You want me, I want you...  Give me one good reason why we shouldn’t do this.”

“I can give you four,” he said wryly, and she folded her arms, raising her chin.

“Okay, shoot.”

He looked amused, with an air of weary patience, as though she were a recalcitrant pupil refusing to accept a proven principle.

“Well, for one, I don’t have any protection,” he said.  “Do you?”

“I - well, no,” she admitted, and he nodded.

“Mm-hm.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that one,” she conceded.

“You’re very generous.”

“But that doesn’t mean we couldn’t do other things!” she added.  “I’ve read - stuff.”

“Stuff?  My my, how depraved.”  

He raised a brow, grinning, and she blushed.

“Okay, shut up,” she muttered.  “What else?”

Gold sighed.  “Secondly, it’s been a _long time_ , Belle.  I wouldn’t want to disappoint you.”

“I don’t think you could if you tried,” she said.  “Besides, it’s not like I have anything to compare it to.”

“Oh look, there’s a _fifth_ reason,” he said dryly, and she rolled her eyes.

“Not as far as I’m concerned,” she said.  "Go on."

He looked at her steadily.  "I think it's pretty clear that I'm probably going to have to kill your father to keep you safe."

She felt her mouth flatten in a thin line.  "And what, you think I'll resent you for it?"

"Families are peculiar things."

"He killed my  _mother_!" she snapped.  "He's trying to kill  _me_!"

"It's still a consideration I have," he said, and she rolled her eyes.

“Well, you can strike that one off the list.  What’s your final reason?”

“I told you before,” he said patiently.  “I won’t take you to bed when you’re scared and in pain.”

“I’m not asking you to!” she protested, then slumped a little.  “Well, okay, maybe I _am_ , but we don’t have to do that tonight; you’re right about the birth control.  You could - you could just kiss me.”

He grinned then, his eyes twinkling.  “And you’d be satisfied with that, would you?”

“For now,” she said.

He cupped her cheek with a warm hand, his thumb stroking over her skin, and leaned a little closer.

“And what if that’s not enough for me?” he said, his voice a low rumble in his chest.  “What if I taste you once and I can’t stop?  What if I bear you down here on the rug and take you hard?”

Belle swallowed, pressing her knees together in her arousal.

“That’s okay,” she said softly, and he shook his head.

“No,” he said.  “No, it really isn’t.  For the reasons I’ve already given.”

“You’re not like that, anyway,” she assured him.  “You have _way_ more self-control than me.”

He chuckled at that.  “Apparently so.”

She reached up to touch him then, feeling the warmth of his skin, the sharp rasp of his stubble against her palm.

“We - we could make a deal,” she suggested.  “Kissing only.  Okay, _maybe_ a little groping...”

He burst out laughing, his eyes sparkling in the firelight.

“...but when one of us says ‘stop’, we stop,” she continued.  “No question, no hesitation.”

“And you’d agree to that, would you?”

She nodded, meeting his eyes.  “I will if you will.”

Gold inhaled deeply, still with a warm smile on his face.

“It appears you have an answer for everything,” he remarked.  “Very well, the deal is struck.”

She grinned, excitement fluttering in her chest, and the tip of her tongue swept across her lips.  His eyes followed its path, and she felt that low-down tug of need.  She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry.

“Okay,” she whispered.  “Are you - are you going to kiss me?”

He sat up a little, setting down his wineglass, and turned to her, cupping her face with his hands.  His thumb brushed over her lower lip, and he pulled it down a little, making her open her mouth.  Belle could feel her breathing quicken, and she breathed in the scent of him, the mineral smell of the soap he had used and the faint, heady sweetness of his own musk.  She was staring at him, his eyes grown large and black with desire, his own lips parted as he leaned forward, and she moaned as he pressed his mouth to hers, his fingers sliding into her hair and sending shivers through her.  He slipped his tongue into her mouth, and he tasted of the wine they had drunk, dark and rich.  

She shifted closer, touching his tongue with hers, and he deepened the kiss, his fingers curling around the base of her skull.  His tongue flickered across her palate, swept around the inner walls of her lips, stroked against her own, and Belle let her hands slide over the planes of his chest and stomach and around his waist, tugging herself against him.  Gold groaned a little, the sound vibrating through her, and broke the kiss, dropping his hands to her waist and turning her around as he dragged her onto his lap.  His mouth found hers again, one hand in her hair and the other clasped around her waist, and she let her fingers sink into the soft fall of his hair, her nails scraping his scalp and making him growl.

It was by no means her first kiss, but it was far and away the most intense, the most intimate, that she had ever experienced.  The pressure of his mouth had increased a little, and his tongue was stroking inside her mouth, and it made her think of what else they could do, of what they wouldn’t need birth control for.  The thought was exciting, and she slipped her hand down his neck and inside the opening of his shirt, sliding across his chest and feeling the heat of his skin and the hard nub of his nipple.  He gasped into her mouth as she touched him, and pulled his lips from hers, kissing along her jaw and down her throat.  Belle moaned as his tongue swept over her pulse, moving in circles against tender flesh, and then he sucked at her, his teeth gently biting.  She let out a tiny cry of pleasure, and he licked back up her throat to kiss her again, his hand sliding up her waist to cup her breast through the silk shirt she wore.

Belle moaned, pushing herself against him, his hand squeezing.  She could feel him against her hip, the hardness of him, and she shifted position, making him groan again.  Her fingers slipped out of the shirt, plucking open another button, and another, until it was open to his waist, and he made a contented sound as she touched him again, her hand stroking over his belly, his chest, her thumb stroking his nipple.  She wanted him to open up the shirt she wore, to touch her properly, to reach between her legs and feel how much she wanted him.

She let her tongue swipe across his, their lips slippery with saliva, his new-grown stubble scratching her cheeks and chin, his fingers twisting almost painfully in her hair, her heart thumping, and all at once he pulled back, panting.

“Stop!” he whispered.  “I have to stop, Belle.”

Stopping was the last thing she wanted, but it was what she had agreed, and she withdrew her hand from his shirt, reaching up to stroke his hair as they caught their breath.  He let his head fall forward, pressing his forehead to hers, and she nuzzled his nose.

“Wow,” she remarked, and he smiled.

“Yes indeed.”  

There was silence for a moment, except for the crackle of flames and the sound of their breathing.  Gold recovered first and pulled back a little, pressing a kiss to her forehead.  

“You should go to bed," he said.  "I want to leave early.”

"What about you?"

"I have some things I need to do first, but I won't be too long."  He brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers.  "Rest, Belle."

“Okay.”  She slipped off his lap, her legs a little unsteady, and straightened the shirt she wore.  “Will we be passing through Storybrooke?”

"That depends.  Where are we heading?"

"New York, I guess."

“Then yes, we'll head back through Storybrooke.”  He was fastening the buttons of his shirt, but glanced up at her.  “We’ll need to pick up some breakfast, and something for the road.  Was there something else you wanted?”

She gave him a flat look.  “Well, either you buy the condoms or I do.”


	19. "I Didn't Lose It, I Just Misplaced It"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @annagingil prompted: Outsiders - 28 and 29?
> 
> 29 has been prompted by someone else, so that'll probably be the next chapter :)

****Belle slept surprisingly well, despite the excitement of having finally been thoroughly kissed to within an inch of her life.  She had lain alone in the darkness, a hand on her belly, remembering how he had felt, how he had tasted.  Her desire had only increased with their encounter, and she had briefly toyed with the idea of joining him in the room next door, crawling into bed with him and kissing him again.  She hadn’t, though.  Quite apart from the fact that she had agreed with him that they wouldn’t be sleeping together until they could get some condoms, she hadn’t heard his footsteps in the room next to hers.

The next morning she woke when it was still dark, and padded through to the lounge area, wrapped in his shirt.  The fire had burned out, but it was still warm in the room, and Gold was sitting at the small table, scrolling through an unfamiliar black phone with a frown lowering his brows.  The rich scent of coffee filled the air, and she slid into the seat opposite him as he looked up with a brief smile.

“Hey,” he said.  “Did you sleep well?”

“I did.”  She put her head to the side, trying to catch his eye as he poured her a cup of coffee.  “Did you sleep at all?”

“A little.”  He pushed the cup towards her, and she took it, hands cupping the mug for warmth.  “I suggest we leave soon.  We should be able to get there today, but I’d prefer to miss the worst of the traffic.”

“Okay.”  She sipped at her coffee, and nodded to the phone.  “That’s not yours.”

“No.”  He set it on the table, face down.  “It belonged to one of our dear departed psychopaths.  I thought I’d see what they’d been up to.”

“Anything useful?”

“A few messages, some instructions, and a great deal of violent and disturbing pornography.”  He squeezed the bridge of his nose, blinking.  “The phone’s of limited value, but it’s always good to know what the other side’s been up to.  Your father demanded that they get in touch and give him an update approximately six hours ago.  He knows they were in Storybrooke.”

Belle felt a sudden thump in her chest, her heart rate quickening in alarm.

“Has he sent anyone else?”

“Not yet.  I suspect he will if he doesn’t hear from them.”  He took a slurp of his own coffee.  “I was thinking of sending a message, to buy us a little time.”

“Wouldn’t hurt, I guess.”

“Hmm.”  He picked up the phone again and tapped away for a moment.  “Would it be likely they’d get drunk?”

“I don’t know.  They probably wouldn’t admit to it if they did, not unless they’d finished the job.”  Her eyes widened.  “Why don’t you tell him that?  Tell him they’ve finished the job?”

“No good, he wants pictures to prove it.”  He tapped some more.  “I’m only looking to buy time, anyway.  You know there’s going to have to be a confrontation at some point.”

“I guess.”  

She buried her nose in her mug again, and he pressed ‘send’, standing up and draining his cup.

“When you’re ready,” he said.

* * *

The sun was rising as they left the cabin, and Belle was quiet as he drove them back into Storybrooke.  He went home first, and she watched as he added a suit bag next to the backpack in the trunk that held her clothes.  There was a leather holdall too, which had not been there when he had first taken her to the cabin, and she peeked inside, drawing back as she saw the dark gleam of weapons.  Gold locked the front door, making his way down the steps and tucking something beneath his jacket.  Another gun, she surmised.

“Do you have a permit to carry?” she asked, and he smiled, gold tooth gleaming.

“Of course.  What do you take me for, some sort of criminal?”

He winked at her, putting on his sunglasses and opening up the car door, and not for the first time she wondered at his past.  Perhaps he would tell her about it.

* * *

Gold suggested they eat a good breakfast, and so they parked up outside Granny’s.  He held the door for her as they entered the diner, and received the usual narrow-eyed glare from its owner.  Mrs Lucas smiled at Belle, though, and took their order with a brisk nod.  One of the waitresses brought them coffee with a bright smile; Belle had discovered that the dark-haired, pretty young woman was Mrs Lucas’s granddaughter, and although she always looked askance at Gold, she was nice to Belle.  Perhaps they might have been friends, in another life.  She stared into her coffee, wondering how this would all end.  Whether she would ever see Storybrooke again once they left.  She hoped so.  In the brief time she had spent here, she had felt something resembling peace.

“We’ll get some water and snacks for the road,” said Gold, keeping his voice low and only for her in the cheerful noise of the diner.  “I suggest we get a hotel for the night.”

“Oh?” she said eagerly.  “Where will we stay?”

She leaned on the table, grinning at him, and his lips twitched in amusement.

“I have somewhere in mind,” he said.  “I think you’ll like it.”

“King size bed?” she asked, blushing a little, and the side of his mouth stretched in a slow grin, his eyes gleaming.

“So you don’t want me to book separate rooms, then?”

“I’ve had enough of separate rooms,” she said decidedly.  “Last night was a taste, like - like an _hors d’oeuvre_.  I want _at least_ another four courses.”

“Perhaps I should have ordered a bigger breakfast,” he said, with a wry expression, and she shrugged.

“When did you lose your sense of adventure, hmm?”

“Oh, I didn’t lose it,” he said, his eyes glinting at her.  “I just misplaced it.  It seemed to reappear when _you_ came hurtling into my life, dragging extreme violence in your wake.”

“Good thing you decided to get coffee that day,” she said primly, and his grin became wolfish.

“Isn’t it?  Look at all the fun I’ve had since.”

She bit her lip, amused.

“Okay, so we get a hotel,” she said.  “One room, one bed, clear?”

“Crystal.”  He picked up his coffee cup, raising an eyebrow.  “What about your friend?  Do we go over in the morning?”

“He lives in the Village,” said Belle.  “And honestly he’s more likely to be awake tonight.  Hackers tend to keep different hours.”

“Is that how you met?”

He took a sip of coffee, fingers tapping against the side of the cup, and she nodded.

“In an online forum.  Dark web stuff, you know?  Managed to sneak in there, which impressed him.  We’ve been friends for a couple of years now.”

“What’s his name?”

“Jefferson,” she said.  “But in the community he goes by…”

“The Mad Hatter,” he finished, and her eyes widened.

“You _know_ him?”

He sighed, rolling his eyes.  “Yes, I’ve used his services on a number of occasions.  Inclined to be excitable, but he’s efficient.  If a little dramatic.”

She giggled.  “Yeah, that’s him.  Great, that makes things easier.  He can be a little paranoid about new people.”

“Hm.”  He took another drink.  “He owes me a favour, as well.”

“Here we are.”  Ruby Lucas set plates of eggs and bacon in front of them.  “Can I get you anything else?”

“Could you make us a couple of sandwiches to go, please?” asked Belle.  “We’re heading out of town for a few days.”

“Road trip, huh?”  Ruby grinned.  “You got it!  Extra pickles, right, Mr Gold?  I won’t even charge you for them.”

“Thank you dear,” said Gold dryly.

* * *

The Dark Star Pharmacy was surprisingly busy for so early in the morning, and Belle waited in line behind a woman talking non stop into her phone, and a man complaining about his feet to the harassed-looking pharmacist, Mr Clark.  Gold was waiting by the door, hands folded over his cane, watching the other customers as they came and went.  He had offered to buy the condoms, but she had wanted to do it herself, as if to prove to him that taking this next step for them was something she wanted as much as he.  They needed road trip snacks as well, so she picked up some chocolate, a packet of cookies, and a big bag of chips, and set them on the counter as Mr Clark finished dealing with the woman in front.  Belle turned to grab a large bottle of water, bumping into a dark-haired woman with deep red lips and an expensive pant suit.  From a brief conversation with Gold she was aware that the woman was Ms Mills, the Mayor.

“Sorry,” she said vaguely, and the woman curled her lip, taking a step back as though Belle was contagious.

“Get two bottles, please Belle,” called Gold, so she grabbed another, noticing that Ms Mills was casting a disapproving look at Gold.

“Anything else I can get you?” asked Mr Clark.

“That should do it,” she said.  “Oh, but I need a box of condoms.  Biggest you got.”

Mr Clark, to his credit, didn’t bat an eyelid, but she could see Gold raise his eyes to the ceiling, and Ms Mills fixed him with a disgusted look before she turned back.  Belle grinned at her.

“We’re going on a road-trip,” she said, in a conspiratorial tone.  “I’m hoping to get _really_ lucky.”

She paid for her purchases, hefting the paper bag Mr Clark handed her, and sauntered over to Gold, swinging her hips.

“Enjoy that, did you?” he murmured, and his eyes were twinkling as he opened the door.

“She was looking at me like I’d thrown up on her shoes,” she whispered.

“You do realise that the rumours will be all around Storybrooke by the end of the day?” he said dryly, and she shrugged, ducking out in front of him.

“You told me they thought I was sleeping with you anyway,” she said.  “At least now they can stop wondering.”

* * *

The drive to New York took them almost nine hours, with stops for food and coffee and to stretch their legs.  Gold had booked them a hotel for the night, and the journey into the centre of New York was painfully slow in the heavy traffic.  Belle grew restless, twisting around in the Cadillac’s leather seat and peering out of the windows, and eventually Gold pulled up outside a large and elegant building that had deep green carpeting on the steps, and a doorman liveried in green and gold, who opened the car door for Belle.

“Welcome to _The Avonlea_ ,” he said.  “May we take your bags?”

Gold had opened up the trunk, and another liveried man had hurried up to reach for the holdall.  Gold picked it up instead.

“I’ll take that,” he said.  “If you could bring the rest, please?”

He gave his keys to the valet, and Belle trotted to his side to make their way up the steps to the reception desk.  The hotel lobby was furnished in polished wood and brass, with comfortable leather chairs and couches to the side and in a small lounge off to the right.  Checking in was a matter of minutes, and then they strolled to the elevator.  Gold had booked a suite, and Belle grinned as she trotted from the lounge to the bedroom to the huge tiled bathroom.  She ran her hands over the crisp white sheets on the bed, wondering how soon they would share it.  The windows looked out over Sixth Avenue, and she peered out along the street, watching people and cars passing far below them.  She looked around as Gold entered and put the suit bag and her backpack on the bed.

“Freshen up, if you like,” he said.  “I have a few things to attend to.  Are you hungry?  I could order room service.”

“Maybe later,” she said, and he nodded.  There was a distracted air about him, and she watched as he wandered back into the lounge and closed the door.  She looked at the bathroom.  A shower sounded just the thing.  She wondered if he’d join her.


	20. "Prepare To Be Amazed"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous prompted: 29 or 46?
> 
> 29: “Prepare to Be Amazed”
> 
> 46: “Shut Up, I Am a Delight!”

****Much to Belle’s disgruntlement, she ended up showering alone, and she dried her hair while wrapped in one of the hotel’s fluffy towelling robes.  She dressed carefully, in one of the little dresses she had taken from the trunk of clothes he had given her, the dress a deep blue lace with a flared skirt and a thin brown belt.  It needed high heels, but months of being on the run had made her wary of footwear that would leave her unable to escape a pursuer.  Besides, the dress looked cute with the thick tights and chunky boots she was used to wearing.  She brushed out her dark curls, applying a little lipstick, which was the only make-up she currently possessed.

Gold looked up as she entered the lounge, tapping away on the screen of that black phone again.  There was a small laptop open in front of him, and he raised his eyebrows, looking her up and down.

“Has my father been in contact?” she asked, and he pulled a face.

“He has.  I think he’s suspicious.  He just tried to call.”  He slipped the phone into his pocket, looking suddenly thoughtful.  “I may as well send him the footage Dove took.”

“Footage?” she asked curiously, and he waved a hand.

“Never mind.  You look very lovely.”

“Oh.”  She looked down at herself, blushing a little.  “Yeah, I thought it was - girly, but ready for action.  Escaping, I mean,” she added hurriedly, as he grinned wickedly.

“Well, let’s hope we don’t have to run anywhere,” he said lightly, pushing himself to his feet with the cane.  “I’d be something of a liability.”

“Hmm.”  She folded her arms, raising an eyebrow.  “Somehow I have confidence that you’d be able to take care of yourself.”

His grin widened, and he closed the lid of the laptop and gestured to the door.

“Well, if you’re ready…”

“Let me get my coat.”

She grabbed her coat, pulling it on as he drew on his overcoat, and snatched up the black wool hat she had brought.  Gold took it off her and pulled it down over her ears, smiling at her.

“There,” he said quietly, his hands cupping her cheeks, and bent to kiss her.

Belle leaned into him, her heart thumping at the feel of his mouth on hers.  Her arms slid around his waist, and he gently pushed his tongue in between her lips, so that she could taste him.  She moaned a little, tugging him against her, and he kissed her slowly, his tongue stroking against hers.  Eventually he drew back, letting out a low rumble of contentment, and she beamed up at him.

“Are you absolutely _sure_ we have to go now?” she asked coyly, and he grinned.

“You said the Mad Hatter was a night-owl, remember?”

“I know, but we could go - oh, say in an hour or two?”

She raised an eyebrow, swivelling back and forth on her toes with a suggestive little smile, and he shook his head, letting his fingers trail across her cheek and into her hair.

“Oh, I think not,” he said quietly.  “An hour or two would be utterly insufficient.  I have every intention of taking my sweet time with you.”

Belle caught her lip between her teeth, arousal making her blush, and he pressed his lips to her forehead.

“Let’s go,” he whispered.

* * *

They took a cab to the Village, the rain starting to fall just as they got out, and Belle squinted up at the street signs, turning down 10th Street and making her way to an apartment building.  Scattered lights shone from the windows above, and she scanned the intercom for a moment before pressing one of the buttons.  There was silence, and she tried to ignore the pelting rain, but then there was a crackle from the speaker.

“Would anyone care to take tea?” drawled a voice, and Belle grinned.

“The March Hare sends his regrets,” she said, and the door buzzed.

Grinning over her shoulder at Gold, she pushed at the door, and they made their way through a dimly-lit lobby to the ancient elevator.  Belle closed up the metal lattice doors and pressed the button for the sixth floor.  The elevator shuddered as it set off and she cast a somewhat nervous glance at Gold, who sent her a quick, reassuring smile.  

“Perhaps we should have taken the stairs,” he suggested, but the elevator ground to a halt with a squeal of metal, and she opened up the lattice door with a feeling of relief.

The corridor was lit by old-fashioned lamps with dirty-looking pink shades, the wallpaper an indistinct embossed pattern, yellow with age and nicotine.  Belle rapped firmly on the door of apartment D, and there was a scrabbling noise on the other side, and the rattle of a chain.  The door was flung open, and a tall young man with dark hair threw his arms wide.

“Bluebell!” he exclaimed, draping himself around her in a bone-crushing hug.  “How the hell _are_ you?”  He straightened up with a jerk and slapped her arm.  “And what the _fuck_ did you send me, are you trying to get me _killed_?”

“Hey Jeff.”  Belle hugged him back.  “Can we come in?”

“Oh!  Of course!”

He let her go, brushing down his brocade waistcoat.  He wore it over a purple shirt and very tight black jeans tucked into thick-soled boots with metal plates on the heels, and he turned to grin at Gold, showing very white teeth.

“Hey, Mr Gold,” he said.

“Jefferson,” said Gold dryly.

“I had no idea you two knew each other, this is like…”  Jefferson waved his hands around, gesturing between them.  “Like Beauty and the Beast, or something!  My universe just imploded!”

“Shy and restrained as ever, I see,” remarked Gold.

Jefferson pulled a face.  “Shut _up_ , I am a _delight_!  Come on in, I have Hot Pockets!”

“I’ll pass, thank you.”  

Gold shot Belle a very wry look, and she giggled, clasping Jefferson’s hand and allowing herself to be pulled into the apartment.  It was small, and packed with furniture and items that seemed too much for the space they occupied.  Large twin monitors sat on a wide desk, with computer equipment scattered around it, several gaming systems, and what looked like a VR headset.  A half-empty bottle of some sort of energy drink sat next to it.  The apartment was warm, and smelt of toasted cheese, and Belle sat down on the small couch as Jefferson threw himself into the chair at his desk.  Gold stood, shifting his feet a little.

“So,” said Jefferson, looking between them expectantly.  “What’s this about?  Bluebell here sends me footage of what looks like something out of a gritty HBO special, and then turns up at my apartment with the infamous Mr Gold.  What gives?”

“I’m here to take it off your hands,” explained Belle.  “My mother died for this evidence.  I need to get it to the authorities.”

Jefferson snorted.  “The _authorities_?  Girl, if you think you can just call up the FBI and hand it over, you’re insane!  If that stuff was what I think it was, then whoever’s in charge will have Feds on the payroll.  Not to mention politicians.”

“Agreed,” said Gold.  “But there are ways and means.”

“Oh, sure!” said Jefferson.  “You want to get the footage out, right?  So someone _has_ to take notice?  Well, I’m your man!”

“I thought you might be.”  

“How widespread are we talking?” he asked, and Gold pursed his lips.

“Major news networks, newspaper editors, that Congresswoman who’s currently kicking up a stink about people trafficking…”

“YouTube,” put in Jefferson.  “I can link it to a bunch of groups I know about that campaign on this issue.”

“Naturally,” agreed Gold.  “Slip a little of the documentary evidence to the press, too.  Just enough to whet the appetite for an investigation.  The remainder can be held back for the authorities.”

“And make sure nothing can be traced back to you,” added Belle, and Jefferson shot her a look.

“What do you think I am, an _amateur_?”

She stuck out her tongue, and he grinned.  Gold flexed his fingers on his cane handle.

“There’s something else I’d like you to do,” he said.  “I need some way of shutting off a security system remotely without tripping any alarms.”

Jefferson sucked his teeth.  “For how long?”

“Let’s say an hour.”

“How sophisticated a system are we talking?” he asked, and Gold gave Belle an enquiring look.

“Oh, it’s top of the range,” she assured him.  “Lots of traps built in.  I can get you the specs.”

Jefferson pulled a face.

“It might take me a day and a half to put something together,” he admitted.  “If I don’t sleep.”

“Take three,” said Gold.  “Usual rate, plus expenses.  And I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that that whatever you produce has to work first time.”

“Hey!” protested Jefferson.  “Have I ever let you down?”

“Clearly not, you’re still alive.”

Jefferson turned to Belle with a sigh, jerking a thumb at Gold.

“Always with the death threats,” he complained.  “I never know whether he’s joking.”

“I never joke about the penalties for failure,” said Gold.  “Do we have a deal or not?”

Jefferson pursed his lips, then stuck out his hand to clasp Gold’s, followed by Belle’s.

“You got yourself a deal,” he said.  “Anything else?”

“Yes.”  Gold reached into his pocket and held up the black phone.  “I need this to go on a journey.”

Jefferson grinned.  “I know this guy who’s going to Florida to see his folks tomorrow.  Is this thing being traced?”

“Probably.  Florida sounds just fine.”

“It’ll cost you a couple of hundred bucks.  The guy can drop it off Longboat Key, if you want, but he’ll need compensating for his trouble.”

Gold handed over the phone, and dug in his pocket for his wallet.

“Less your twenty percent, no doubt,” he said, in a dry tone, and Jefferson spread his arms.

“Hey, I’m not a charity!”

“Hmm.”  Gold looked amused, but started counting out twenty dollar bills.  “Now, about getting that information out to anyone who matters.”

Jefferson winked and clasped his fingers together, stretching outwards until his knuckles cracked, and turned to the keyboard in front of him.

“Prepare,” he said.  “To be.   _Amazed_.”


	21. “How Can Anyone Not Be Afraid of Love?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @anonymousnerdgirl prompted: How can anyone not be afraid of love? Can you use it in the smut instalment?
> 
> Why yes, I can :) This is prompt #13

****They left Jefferson working his magic, with Gold promising to call for an update the next day, and took a cab back to the hotel.  Gold was silent on the journey, seemingly lost in thought, and Belle reached for his hand, sliding her fingers through his and squeezing.  He glanced across at her then, a brief smile brightening his eyes, and returned her squeeze.

“So,” she said.  “I guess we have three days in New York.”

“Yes.”  He looked thoughtful.  “There are a couple of things I’d like to do while we’re here.  You’ll need a passport at some point.  What name do you want in it?”

Belle shuddered.  “Not Marchland,” she said.  “I don’t want anything to do with that name.”

“Where did Lacey French come from?” he asked, and she smiled briefly.

“Lacey was a girl I knew in high school, and my mother actually _was_ French,” she said.  “Her name was Colette.  Could I use Belle French?”

He smiled, squeezing her hand again.  “I’ll see to it.”

* * *

The rain was pouring in near-freezing sheets as the cab pulled up outside the hotel, and the doorman rushed over with an umbrella to shelter them, water pouring from the brim of his hat.  Once inside, Gold went to the reception desk to extend their stay, and Belle waited, bouncing up and down on her toes with anticipation as she watched him.  After a minute or two he came over, slipping a piece of paper into his inside pocket.

“We’re here for three nights,” he said.  “And I’ve ordered some food and wine to be sent up.  Shall we?”

Excitement building, and with no small amount of nervousness, she followed him to the elevator.  There was silence on the way to the suite, and once inside she took off her coat and boots and watched as he shrugged off his overcoat and jacket.  Her tights were wet from the rain, and after a moment she stripped those off too, wriggling her toes in the thick pile of the carpet.

“Are - are we safe here?” she asked.  “We could have been traced, right?”

“With the phone, you mean?”  He draped his coat over the back of a chair.  “Well, that’ll be on the way to Florida tomorrow.  Besides, with what Jefferson’s doing, I imagine your father will be occupied with damage-control procedures and seeing how far corruption in public office can actually take him.”

Belle nodded, shivering and rubbing her arms briskly.  Gold looked concerned.

“Are you cold?”

“No, just…”  She shrugged.  “Worried, I guess.”

“It’ll be over soon,” he said calmly.  “I promised to keep you safe.”

“You did.”  She took a step closer, wanting him to hold her.  “I’m sorry I’ve caused so much trouble.”

“By being an innocent victim who wants to expose criminality?” he said dryly.  “You’re in no way at fault here, I assure you.”

He still kept his distance, and she was beginning to feel awkward.  She knew that they had planned this, that there was an understanding that they would be sleeping together.  The box of condoms sat on the nightstand in the bedroom, and their earlier kiss had only whetted her appetite for more.  And yet he seemed reticent, as though he was reluctant to touch her.

“What is it?” she asked softly.  “Something’s worrying you.”

His jaw worked a little, and he looked away for a moment.

“When I go to Phoenix,” he said.  “I thought it might be best if you stay here.”

“What?” she protested.  “No!  I’m safest with you!”

“Perhaps,” he said.  “Perhaps not.  I’m not as quick on my feet as I used to be, and definitely not as mobile.”

“You can forget that bullshit right now!” she said firmly.  “There’s no way I’m going to sit in this hotel room and wait while you go off on some noble fucking quest to save me, so forget it!”

“I’m going to break into a high-security complex and kill some people that need killing,” he said dryly.  “There’s nothing noble about it.”

“And you need me to give you intelligence,” she pointed out.  “I _lived_ there, for God’s sake!  I can _help_!”

A polite knock at the door interrupted them, and Gold sighed a little and went to open it, peering through the spyhole before doing so.  A young man wheeled in a small cart with an ice bucket and a bottle of champagne, two covered dishes and a bowl of fruit.  Belle began pacing back and forth a little as Gold tipped the man and locked the door after him.

“That food had better be something cold,” she said, a little sharply.  “Because I’m not hungry and I have no interest in eating anything right now.  I’m going with you to Phoenix, and that’s final.”

“You’re determined, then,” he said.  He had an expression of rueful amusement, and for some reason it annoyed her.

“I am,” she said, raising her chin.  “I know what I want.”

She tried to put meaning into her words, to convey to him how much she wanted him, and he regarded her steadily, dark eyes gleaming.

“Very well,” he said eventually.  “We’ll sit down tomorrow and you can take me through everything.”

“Good,” she said, nodding, and took a step closer.  “That’s tomorrow, then.  Let’s concentrate on tonight.”

She was very close to him now, close enough to touch, and he sucked in his cheeks a little, eyes flicking around the room, and gestured to the cart.

“Would you - like a drink?”

“No, Gold, I don’t want a bloody drink!” she said impatiently, and rolled her eyes with a sigh, sliding her hands around his waist.

“Look, I know you want me,” she said.  “I can feel it when you kiss me.  But - but it feels like you’re holding back, like you don’t want to get close.  Why?”

Gold smiled briefly, lifting a hand to stroke an errant curl back from her face.

“Because I’m afraid,” he said softly.

“Of what?” she persisted.  “Of me?  Of _us_? How can you be afraid of that?  How can _anyone_ be afraid of - of _love_?”

“How can anyone _not_ be afraid of love?” he countered.  “When you have someone to love, you have something to lose.  You give your heart to someone, and you give your enemies a weapon; one that can be used against you.”

“You think love makes you weak?” she asked, and he hesitated.

“I think it makes you vulnerable,” he said eventually.  “Vulnerability is not a quality that lends itself to the work I do.  Or that I did.”

Belle opened and closed her mouth, realisation hitting her.

“You lost someone,” she said, and he glanced away.

“Yes.”

She wanted to ask him who, but his face had twisted a little with pain, and so she swallowed the question down.

“And you’re - you’re afraid you’ll lose me,” she whispered.

“Yes.”  It was barely a whisper.

She shuffled closer, putting her hands on his chest and sliding them up to his shoulders.

“But I’m here now,” she said gently.  “I’m here, and I want you.  Can we just concentrate on that for tonight?  On _us_?”

He sighed, pressing his forehead to hers, and she inhaled deeply, breathing in his scent.

“Yes,” he whispered.  “Yes, we can do that.”

He leaned his cane against the couch and lifted his hands to her shoulders, palms sliding inwards until his fingers curled around her throat, his thumbs slipping beneath her jaw and gently tilting her head upwards as he lowered his mouth to hers.  His kiss was soft, light, and she felt her heart thump, but it wasn’t enough for her.  Her arms slid around him, pulling him closer, and she moaned into his mouth as his tongue slipped inside, touching hers.  He let out a tiny groan, making her abdomen clench, his fingers sinking into her hair, his lips pushing hers further apart.  His tongue stroked, flickering over the soft inner walls of her mouth, running over teeth and tongue, sliding and thrusting, and she pressed herself against him, wanting to feel all of him.

Her hands slid up his back, over the smooth silk of his waistcoat, and she tugged him against her, feeling him harden, a rigid line pressing into her belly and making her squirm.  He groaned into her mouth, and broke the kiss, his forehead pressed to hers, their breathing heavy, their lips wet and slippery with saliva.

“Bedroom?” he whispered, and she nodded.

Gold grabbed his cane, one arm going around her waist, and they staggered to the bedroom with Belle’s tongue in his ear, her lips pulling at the lobe.  Once inside he kicked the door shut behind them, and Belle stretched up on her bare toes to kiss him again.  He let the cane fall, cupping her face with his hands, running his thumb over her lower lip and pulling it down, a low growl rumbling up out of him.  Belle lunged, sucking his thumb in between her lips and letting her tongue curl around it, and Gold groaned again, his eyes dark.  He drew out his wet thumb, his lips finding hers, his tongue pushing into her, and his hands dropped to cup her breasts through the dress.  He pulled his mouth from hers, kissing down her neck until he could draw his tongue across the pulse point, making her shiver and moan in his arms.

“You taste so good, Belle,” he murmured.  “So delicious.”

She wanted to tell him that he tasted good too, but he was sucking on her neck, his teeth gently sinking into her, and she closed her eyes with a moan of pleasure, her fingers digging into his shoulders.  He squeezed her, his thumbs rubbing over her hardened nipples, and she pushed against him, letting out a tiny cry as he bit down.  He licked up to her ear, his teeth nipping the lobe, his breath making her shiver.

“Turn around,” he whispered, and dropped his hands to her waist, gently turning her until she had her back to him.

Belle tried to catch her breath as his fingers found the zipper of her dress, and she tugged at the narrow belt at her waist, pulling it open as he drew the zipper down her back.  His fingers slipped inside, pushing it from her shoulders, and she let it fall, the dress pooling at her feet.  Gold swept her hair to the side, lowering his mouth to the nape of her neck, and Belle moaned at the touch of his lips, shivers running through her.  His hands stroked down her back, reaching for the clasp of her bra and pulling it open, and she resisted the urge to cover herself as he pushed the straps from her shoulders and let it fall.  He cupped her, his palms warm against her skin, his teeth sinking into her neck, and she leaned back against him, her breath coming hard in her chest.

Gold gently turned her back to face him, and she could feel herself trembling as she looked up, meeting his eyes.  He kissed her forehead once, then took a step back, looking her over. She was naked except for her plain black panties, and his eyes moved over her, lingering on the curves and hollows of her hips and waist and breasts, the tip of his tongue flicking out to wet his lips.

“Beautiful,” he whispered.  “You’re so beautiful.  Get on the bed, sweetheart.”

He sat down on the ottoman at the end of the bed, unlacing his shoes, and Belle climbed onto the bed and lay back with her knees drawn up, her heart thumping.  The mattress sank a little as he sat down on the edge of the bed and shifted closer, and she reached for him, turning to face him, her fingers sliding into his hair as he bent to kiss her.  He was still fully dressed, and she was only in her underwear, and she wondered if he felt awkward, but he lay down beside her, head on the pillows, his mouth finding hers, his hand sliding up her waist to her breast.  She moaned a little, and he pushed her onto her back, his body covering hers, his tongue exploring her mouth.  

Belle pulled him closer, enjoying the weight of his body and the way his scent wrapped around her, her tongue brushing over his.  He pulled back a little, bending to kiss down her neck, moving down the bed until his lips touched her right breast, his lips soft and warm against her skin.  She sucked in a breath as his mouth found her nipple, lips fastening over it, his tongue scraping across it, and she moaned and arched up into him as him.  He suckled at her, his hand squeezing, then let the nipple slip from between his lips as he kissed across her chest to fasten on the other.  She let her head roll back, her chest heaving, her fingers trailing through his soft hair, loving the hot, wet feel of his mouth and the scrape of the stubble that had been growing throughout the day, a rough contrast to the softness of his lips and tongue.

He shifted lower, and she could feel the knot of his silk tie against her belly, a firm bulge pushing into her.  She wanted to take it off, to pull off his tie and unbutton his shirt and _see_ him, feel his skin beneath her fingers and tongue, explore every inch of him.  He was kissing his way lower, his tongue sweeping over her abdomen, dipping into her navel, running along the waistband of her panties, and she inhaled deeply as he pressed a kiss to her mound through the black cotton, sending a jolt of sensation through her.  Gold growled under his breath, making her belly clench.

“God, you smell good!” he rasped.  “Are you wet, Belle?”

“Yes!” she breathed.  “Take them off.”

He slipped his thumbs beneath the waistband of her underwear, gently pulling them down over her hips and down her legs before tugging them off at her feet.  She was bared to his view, and she felt a blush rise in her cheeks at him seeing all of her, but he slid his hands up her thighs, pushing them apart a little, his lower lip trembling as he gazed down at her.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, and bent his head to kiss her.

It was strange, feeling him there, his warm lips pressing against her tender skin, his soft hair brushing her inner thighs.  One hand curled around, fingers parting the curls of her hair, and she could feel his breath, warm air against wet flesh.  Then his tongue swept across her, licking up through her folds, and she arched up off the bed with a cry.  Her hands dropped to his head, fingers twisting in his hair as he licked at her, low groans of pleasure coming from him as he tasted her, and she pushed up into him, wanting more of him, wanting all of him.  His tongue circled her clit, sliding up and down and never quite touching it, and her breath was coming in pants, the sensations building within her.  His stubble scraped across her skin, his chin rubbing over her, the friction making her see stars.  She moaned aloud as he teased her, as he used the flat of his tongue on her in a steady rhythm, bringing her to the brink before pulling back, his hot breath ghosting over her.

“Please!” she moaned.  “Please, I want you!”

He bent his head again, and she groaned as he licked at her, his tongue swirling and sliding and teasing, and the rough feel of his stubble scraping her over and over until it was too much, too much and she could feel herself nearing the edge, her cheeks flushing, her heart pounding until she came with a loud cry.  White light burst behind her eyes, her body jerking upwards, tiny, rhythmic cries coming from her, over and over as he groaned aloud and buried his face in her flesh, drinking her fluids, his tongue pushing inside her to catch every drop.  She collapsed back into the bedclothes, panting, her skin so sensitive that it was almost painful to the touch, and he drew back, pressing kisses to her, slowly working his way back up over her belly, her breasts, spreading her fluids across her skin, covering them both in her scent.

She tried to catch her breath, stroking his hair with her fingers as he lingered at her breasts, his lips pulling at her nipples and making her moan.  He moved higher, pushing his face into the hollow between her neck and shoulder and inhaling deeply before pressing kisses to her neck and along the line of her jaw.  She could smell herself on him, his chin and the ends of his hair sticky with her juices, and he was breathing heavily, his lips brushing over hers.

“You taste incredible,” he whispered.  “I could spend all night doing that to you, Belle.”

He kissed her, and there was salt on his tongue, musk on his skin, and his hand slid down her body, between her legs.  Belle moaned into his mouth as his fingers slipped through the wet folds of flesh, gently stroking.  She wanted to undress him, to pull off that tie and open up his shirt, but her body was loose and heavy from her orgasm, her fingers clumsy, and so she merely carded his hair, damp, sticky strands clinging to her hands as they kissed.  His fingers stiffened, the first two sliding against her, rubbing up and down, and her moan grew louder at the pressure, the friction.  She could feel herself building again, her cheeks flushing, her breath catching, and he increased the pace a little, rubbing over her, pressing down on her, until she broke once more, her climax making her pull her mouth from his and let out a loud cry of ecstasy.

She jerked in his arms, sensations spreading out from her core, running through her and making her skin tingle and burn, and he pressed the flat of his hand over her mound, his warmth soaking into her as she came down.  She was panting for breath, and he kissed her cheek, nuzzling her, his teeth gently nipping at her jawline.

“Alright?” he murmured, and she nodded sleepily.

“That was amazing,” she said softly.  “But you’re still fully dressed.”

She felt him smile against her skin, his hand stroking over her hip, cupping her breast.

“So I am.”

She blinked, her eyes heavy-lidded, and groped for the buttons of his waistcoat, pulling them open.  It was hard to concentrate when he was kissing her neck, his tongue sweeping over her skin, but she managed to get them unfastened, and tried to push the waistcoat from him.  Gold knelt up, shrugging the thing off and grinning down at her, and she watched as he plucked at the knot of his tie, deftly untying it and pulling it from around his throat with a soft whisper of silk.  His cufflinks were next, unfastened with a flicker of fingers at each wrist and the gold buttons placed on the nightstand.  She had recovered enough to help, and she sat up a little, unfastening his collar and working her way down the shirt, uncovering a little of his skin as she went.  Her fingers slid inside, feeling the heat of his smooth chest, running her hands over him as he bent to kiss her again.

He laid her back down on the bed, his tongue pushing in between her lips, letting his hand slide back down her body and in between her legs, and Belle moaned as he stroked though the wetness he found there.  She felt a finger tease her entrance, and opened her legs a little wider, lifting her hips, wanting him.  He let out a groan as the finger slid inside her, pushing deep, and she arched her back, pulling her mouth from his with a cry of pleasure as his thumb brushed over her clit.

“Oh, _Belle_!” he breathed, the feel of his lips on her ear sending shivers through her.  “Oh, sweetheart, you feel so _good_.  Like silk, my darling.”

She wanted to tell him that he felt good too, that she wanted to feel all of him, to have him inside her, but he was moving his finger, thrusting slowly, sliding in and out of her, the pad of his thumb circling her clit, and she moaned and clung to his shoulders, moving her hips a little to increase the pressure.  He added another finger, pushing in beside the first, stretching her, sliding into flesh made slick with her arousal, and she groaned in pleasure at the feel of it.

“Oh, God yes!” she whispered.  “Oh, that feels amazing!”

She felt him grin against her, and then he was thrusting again, slowly, sliding in and out and brushing against her clit, her flesh already swollen and sensitive, and she could feel herself building towards climax again, excited by his touch, by the feel of him inside her.  He kept his movements slow and steady, his fingers sliding, thrusting, and she could feel perspiration forming on her upper lip, on her forehead, her skin hot and damp.  He kissed her again, his tongue dipping into her mouth as his fingers pushed up inside her, and Belle moaned, lifting her hips, increasing the friction as he worked.  Sensations were blooming, spreading outwards, sending a tide of warmth through her, and she could feel her muscles stiffening, tightening, her body ready to crash over the edge.  His thumb rubbed over her clit, and she broke with a loud cry, Gold pulling his mouth from hers to bit down into her neck as she came, her body rising up off the bed, her hips bucking against his hand.

She tried to catch her breath, letting out tiny moans as her body jerked at his touch, her flesh almost too sensitive, and Gold shushed her gently, teeth tugging at her earlobe as she calmed.  He pushed himself up on one elbow, grinning down at her, and slowly drew out his fingers.  She watched as he held them up, glistening with whitish fluid, and then put them into his mouth one by one, letting out a low rumble of pleasure at the taste of her.  There was a glimpse of his pink tongue as he licked them clean, his cheeks hollowing around each finger as he sucked her cum from them.

He bent his head to hers once more, his fingers sinking into her hair, sticky with the scent of her pleasure, and gently brushed his lips against hers, so that she could breathe in his scent, mixed with her own.

“You taste so good when you come,” he breathed, his voice a low rumble vibrating through her.  “I want to _feel_ you come, Belle.  Feel it inside you.”

“Yes!” she whispered, and he traced the inner walls of her lips with the tip of his tongue, his breath warm in her mouth.

“I want you, sweetheart,” he said softly.  “I want _every bit_ of you.  I want to make you come in every way I can.”

She pawed at his shirt, trying to get it off his shoulders, and he kissed her once more before pushing himself to his feet, unsteady on his bad leg.  He let the shirt flutter to the ground, unbuckling his belt, and she watched with wide eyes, her chest heaving with her excitement as he let his pants drop.  His erection was tenting the front of his underwear, and she licked her lips, wanting him so much it was almost painful.  Reaching to the side, she grabbed at the box of condoms, opening it up and pulling one out, and he took it from her as he lay back down beside her, as naked as she.

Belle ran her eyes over him, wanting to drink in the sight of his body.  He was thin, of course, but strong, as she had suspected, with slender ropes of wiry muscle in his arms and legs, his chest smooth and solid, his stomach with just a little softness to it.  Dark hair spread down between his legs, where his cock lay against his belly, the skin there darker than the rest of him.  She traced its length with a finger, making him growl, and he tore open the condom, reaching down to roll it on before moving between her legs, his weight pressing down on her.  Belle felt him slip his fingers inside her once more, feeling his way before he lined them up, the hard, blunt head of him pushing at her entrance.  He was breathing hard, his eyes deep and dark, and she met his gaze, feeling as though she was staring into his soul as he slowly pushed inside her.

She let out a cry, her fingers digging into his shoulders as he slid deep, sinking into her, filling her, and he groaned in pleasure, his body shuddering.  Hands slid down into the hollow of her waist and out over the curves of her hips, and she lifted her knees, wrapping her legs around him and letting him all the way in.  It felt good to finally have him there, a part of her, snug within her, and she reached up to brush his hair back, stretching up to kiss him as he began to move.  There was friction there, from their hair and her juices, and his thrusts were slow and gentle, his hips moving in rhythmic circles, grinding against her and making her gasp into his mouth at the feel of it.

His hands slid back up her body, fingers pushing through her hair as she let her head roll back in the pillows, and he licked up the length of her throat, thrusting into her, making stars burst in her vision as he ground against her clit.  She gazed up at him, loving the feel of his hands on her face, his gentle touch on her cheeks, and his tongue flickered over the soft inner slopes of her lips, sliding inside her mouth and over her palate, tracing the line of her teeth.  She let her tongue stroke his, their mouths slippery with saliva, and she could taste herself on his breath, the scent of her pleasure surrounding them.  

Belle lifted her knees a little higher towards her chest, and he thrust into her, the feel of it almost painful, his forehead pressed against hers, his breath hot on her mouth, on her tongue, as she gasped at the feel of him.  There was sweat between them, their bodies slippery with it, her breasts and belly wet with it, and she could feel herself building towards another climax as he ground against her.  His body was shaking a little, tension visible in the corded muscles of his neck and shoulders, and she gripped with her thighs as he quickened his pace.

“Oh Belle!” he gasped.  “Belle, sweetheart, I can feel it!  I’m gonna come - I _have_ to come!”

“Yes!” she whispered.  “Come inside me!”

She could feel him, grown harder, rigid, gripped tight by her, his movements quickening, and he threw back his head with a loud, long groan as his cock pulsed inside her.  The feel of it brought her to the brink, and she pumped her hips, rubbing against him until she came with a cry, her flesh tugging at him.  He continued to thrust, and she raised her head to kiss him, her tongue seeking his.  Eventually he slowed and stopped, breaking the kiss and pressing his forehead to hers, and they both tried to catch their breath, skin slippery with sweat.  His hair stuck to her face, his skin smelling of her arousal, and she lifted a weary arm and brushed his hair back, pressing soft kisses to his cheeks.

For a moment the only sound was their ragged breathing.  She could feel him softening inside her, and he reached between them to grab the base of the condom, pulling out of her.  He pushed himself up on his elbows a little more, smiling down at her with heavy-lidded eyes and a lazy contentment softening his features.

“Well well,” he said softly.  “Wasn’t that something?”


	22. "No One Has a Heart Of Stone" #2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous prompted: "Come on now! 21 just screams Rumbelle!"
> 
> 21: “No One Has a Heart of Stone”
> 
> Yeah, I got two prompts for this number, but I was confident I could work it into the fic again, so here we are!

****Belle stroked his hair, smiling up at him.  She felt lazy and heavy-limbed, his body a pleasant weight on top of her, their skin sticky and warm.

“Are you alright?” he asked, and she nodded.

“That was amazing,” she murmured.  “But I don’t think I can move.”

He bent to kiss her, and she opened her mouth for him, her tongue gently probing.  His body moved against hers, skin sliding on skin, and he let out a tiny contented sound as they kissed.  Eventually, though, he pulled back, rolling off her onto his back and pulling her against him.

“We could get underneath the covers,” she suggested, and he agreed, sitting up and pushing down the blankets so they could slip beneath.

Belle settled against his side with a happy sigh, breathing in his musky scent.  She was thirsty, but too warm and comfortable to move, and so she pillowed her head on his shoulder, trailing her fingers across his naked chest and watching a lazy smile spread across his face.

“So,” she said.  “Three days.  And nights.”

She circled his nipple with a fingertip, and his grin widened.

“I’m afraid we can’t spend all that time in bed,” he said, and she pouted.

“You’re no fun,” she grumbled.

“Is that so?”  He raised an eyebrow.  “I’ll see how you feel on that score tomorrow morning.”

Belle giggled, blushing a little.

“So, what do we need to do tomorrow?” she asked.

“I have to get in touch with a couple of old friends,” he said.  “But that can wait until the evening.  I’ll need you to take me through the layout of where it is we’re going, and talk me through any features of the security system that you can remember.  I want a complete list, as far as you know, of those that work for your father, any weaknesses, particular skills _et cetera_.  In short, I need to know strengths, weaknesses, opportunities and threats.”

“Oh.”  She chewed her lip.  “Yeah, that’ll take a while, I guess.  Maybe I should make the most of having you here tonight, then.”

He chuckled.  “At least give me a little time to recover,” he said, amused.  “Are you thirsty?  I could get us a drink.”

“Yes please.”

He patted her hip, and she rolled away, letting him get up.  He groped for his cane, pushing himself to his feet and walking naked to the lounge.  She pushed herself up on her elbows, looking him over.  He had a nice arse, she decided.  A nice everything, really.  While he was gone, she took the opportunity to go to the bathroom, and then made herself comfortable in the bed, propping herself up on the pillows.  After a moment he came back through with a tray, on which were balanced two glasses of water and two of champagne.  Belle took the tray from him, setting it on the nightstand as he got back into bed, and drank the water thirstily.  He held out an arm to her, and she snuggled closer, nestling by his side as he kissed the top of her head.  There was silence for a moment, and Belle chewed at her lip as she mulled things over in her head.

“I can hear your brain working,” he said.  “What is it?”

Belle hesitated for a moment before voicing a thought she had been toying with since they met.

“You knew I was running from something when you met me,” she said.

“Yes.”

“And yet you took me in and offered me a job,” she said.  “You protected me, a total stranger.  Why?”

He was silent for a moment, stroking his fingers over the skin of her back.

“You were a puzzle,” he said finally.  “I like puzzles.  I wanted to find out what your story was.  You might have been sent to Storybrooke to kill me, and if so, I wanted to keep an eye on you.”

She stared at him.  “Seriously?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he said, with a shrug.

“You thought a young woman of five feet two had come to kill you?” she said flatly, and he tutted, shaking his head.

“The earth is littered with the bones of men who underestimated women,” he remarked.  “I wasn’t about to join them.”

“So when did you decide I wasn’t an assassin?”

“Oh, day one,” he said assuredly.  “You were far too clumsy.”

She swatted him, making him chuckle.

“I trusted you, you know,” she said quietly.  “From the start, I trusted you.  I can’t explain why.”

“Well, part of me wants to tell you never to trust someone you don’t know, and only a few of those you do know,” he said, sounding amused.  “The rest of me is glad that you felt that way.  I suppose it made things easier.”

“I guess it did.”  

She kissed his chest, his arm a pleasant weight around her, but she still had questions that she wanted him to answer.

“What’s your history?” she asked then, and he smiled slightly.

“Long and, for the most part, exceedingly dull.”

“Really?”  She was disbelieving.  “Somehow I doubt that.”

“Well, perhaps we can discuss it later,” he said, and she kissed his nipple, making him start.

“Not a fan of pillow talk?” she asked coyly.

“Oh, I am.”  His fingers trailed up the curve of her waist, brushing the underside of her breast.  “But I was thinking that I could tell you what I want to do to you instead.”

Belle felt a pleasant tug of desire in her belly.

“You said you needed time to recover,” she reminded him.  “I’m just making conversation.  It’s traditional after having sex with strange and dangerous men.  I’ve seen movies.”

“Is this where you attempt to get me to reveal the location of my secret underground lair?” he asked, the corner of his mouth pulling upward in a slanting grin.

“Maybe - like - the blueprints for a death ray, or something,” she suggested.

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“That’s okay, you have three days to do something super-villainy, I’ll wait.”

Gold burst out laughing at that, his arm tightening around her and pulling as his body rolled, flipping her until she was beneath him.  He was grinning down at her, his hair hanging in her face, and she reached up to brush it back.

“Does that mean I’m some sort of sociopath with a heart of stone?” he asked.  “Perhaps I should get a cape.”

Belle smiled up at him, and kissed his nose impulsively.

“You told me no one has a heart of stone,” she whispered, stroking his cheek.  “And I believe it.”

His smile softened, a warm light in his eyes, and he cupped her cheek with the palm of his hand.

“I love you, Belle,” he said quietly, and she smiled, her fingers trailing through his hair.

“Good,” she said.  “Because I love you too.”

He kissed her, his mouth soft and warm, and pulled back to smile down at her with that same soft look in his eyes.

“And are you still afraid?” she asked.

Gold’s smile became rueful, his thumb brushing over her lip.

“Oh, I’m terrified!” he whispered.


	23. "I've Been Buying the Wrong Underwear"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @anonymousnerdgirl prompted: "Can you use 8 and 12 in the Jefferson instalment?"
> 
> 8: “Your smile is not as bright as it used to be”
> 
> 12: “I’ve been buying the wrong underwear”
> 
> Prompt # 12 was also prompted by @still-searching47
> 
>  

They got little sleep that night, with Gold doing everything he could to send Belle into a post-orgasmic coma, and Belle waking him up in the small hours of the morning with the touch of her fingers, and her mouth on his skin.  When she finally awoke she felt groggy, and the bed beside her was empty.  She sat up, noticing the thin shafts of daylight coming from behind the curtains.  A glance at the clock told her it was after ten, and so she threw back the covers and went to take a shower.

When she went through to the lounge, wrapped in the fluffy bathrobe, Gold was peering at his laptop and tapping away in his shirtsleeves, a slight frown on his face.  His eyes brightened as she entered, and he sat back with a grin, letting her sit down on his lap.  Belle kissed him hungrily, and his arms slid around her, pulling her close.  Eventually she drew back with a contented sigh.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Tired,” she admitted.  “In the best way.  Can we get breakfast?”

“I’ll call down, have something brought up,” he said.  “I’d like us to start working on what we discussed.”

Belle pouted, stroking his hair.  

“So it’s to be all work and no play?”

Gold grinned, raising an eyebrow.  

“Oh, we’ll play later, I assure you,” he said softly.

* * *

They spent most of the day working through the information that Gold had wanted.  Belle managed to draw up what she thought was a reasonable plan of her father’s complex, which was large, gated and had a state-of-the-art surveillance system.  Gold typed quickly as Belle listed the men who worked for her father, including names, descriptions, and everything she could remember about their personalities, skills and weaknesses.  Gold questioned her extensively, his tone clipped and terse, his fingers flying over the keyboard, and by the time dusk fell she felt as though she had been wrung out and thrown aside.  Gold closed the laptop and sent her a weary smile.

“Dinner?” he asked.  “Let me take you out, there’s somewhere I need to go.”

* * *

They ate dinner at a small Japanese restaurant off Bleecker Street, enjoying miso soup with pieces of cooked lobster stirred up from the depths of the bowls like sweet treasure.  The soup was followed by silken cubes of _agedashi tofu_ in a rich savoury broth and large shrimp in tempura batter as light as a feather.  A plate of mixed sushi rolls was almost too much for Belle, but she ate it anyway, savouring the clean flavours of raw fish and seaweed in her mouth, the brief flare of fire from the wasabi and the salty taste of salmon roe bursting on her tongue.  Gold poured them cups of green tea, selecting the final piece of sushi with his chopsticks and popping it in his mouth.  

“Are you finished?” he asked, when he had wiped his mouth and laid down his chopsticks.  “We should probably make a move.”

She was aware that he had made a call to Jefferson, arranging to meet him at nine for a progress update, and so she nodded, dabbing at her mouth with a napkin.  Gold paid, helping her on with her coat and following her out into the street with a warm hand on her back.  She noticed his eyes flicking everywhere, watching for danger, but the streets were filled with young couples and small groups, talking and laughing as they moved between bars.  Gold took her hand in his, nodding at a bright red neon sign ahead of them.   _Queens of Darkness_ , it read.  What sounded like jazz music was filtering out of the heavy double doors.

“A club?” asked Belle, and he grinned at her.

“Owned by a friend.  Three friends, actually.  The New York young professionals like to come here to drink, snort cocaine and dance the Charleston.  A good place to discuss business and not be overheard.  Come on.”

There was already a line forming outside the club, young men and women bouncing eagerly on their toes and held back by a thick red rope.  A large man in a black suit and white shirt nodded to Gold.  He had calm brown eyes and a very broad chest, and Belle suspected that he was more than capable of keeping out anyone the club didn’t want.

“Lance,” said Gold, in acknowledgement, and the man lifted the rope to let them in.

“She’s upstairs, Mr Gold,” he said.

“I’m expecting the Hatter as well,” said Gold.  “Would you send him up when he gets here?”

Lance nodded serenely, and Gold offered his arm to Belle as the door was opened for them.  The club had only just opened, bar staff lining up clean glasses and flicking cloths over tables as they waited for customers.  Lively jazz music was pouring from speakers, and on the stage to the rear of the room a band was setting up, plucking at strings and running through a sound check.  A dance floor was in front of the stage, bathed in warm light and surrounded by tables and chairs, but Gold patted Belle’s hand and drew her away towards a flight of wrought-iron stairs that led up to a mezzanine floor and a series of small, cosy booths with padded leather seats.

_“Darling!”_

Belle released Gold’s arm, taking a step back as a slender woman cannoned into him, jaw-length blonde hair hiding his face for a moment.  He laughed, hugging her briefly before pulling back, and Belle saw a woman of perhaps thirty five, tall and thin, clad in tight leather pants above very high heels, and a white silk vest. Her skin was very pale, with heavy eye make-up and sharp features, and she was sporting bright red lipstick, her mouth curved in a wide grin.

“You _dreadful_ man, why didn’t you tell me you were coming to the city?” she scolded, slapping him.  “You could have stayed with us!”

“I needed to sleep at some time, Ella,” he remarked dryly.  “I dimly recall what an evening with you three is like, thank you.  Not sure my liver ever recovered from the last time.”

“Oh, Mal’s out of town,” she said airily.  “It’s just me and Ursula until next week, so you’re quite safe.”

“Mal was never the bad influence, but okay,” he said, with a grin, and gestured to Belle.  “Belle, this is Ella.  She owns this place with her girlfriends.  She also makes a fantastic Gimlet, although I don’t recommend drinking more than one if you want to get anything done.”

Ella stuck out her tongue, but turned to look Belle up and down.

“Well, aren’t you a lovely thing?” she said approvingly.  “Don’t tell me you fell for old Silvertongue Snarky-pants over here.”

Belle giggled, and Gold raised his eyes to the ceiling with a sigh.

“I’m sure you remember me telling you that we have some business to discuss,” he said, and Ella nodded, flapping her hands at him.

“Go and sit down, I’ll bring the drinks,” she commanded.

They sat in one of the booths, which afforded a good view of the band and the dance floor.  People were starting to stream into the club, the sound of conversation getting louder, but the thick glass screen around the balcony cut out much of the noise.  Ella brought them drinks: gin and tonic for herself and Gold, and a non-alcoholic fruit punch for Belle, which was delicious.

“I can get the documents you wanted,” she announced.  “But it won’t be quick.  My man is a little jumpy at the moment; one of his colleagues got arrested two weeks ago.”

“The passport isn’t time-pressured,” Gold assured her.  “We won’t be flying, we’ll be driving.  As long as you can get me everything within a month or two, it’ll be fine.”

“Oh, that’ll be okay.”  She frowned as she looked out over the dance floor, stirring her drink.  “I think the Hatter’s here.  Surprised he hasn’t started dancing.  I don’t know where that boy gets his energy.”

“Probably best not to ask,” said Gold.  “I expect he’s hungry.  Could we get some food?  A burger will do, as long as there’s something green with it.  I dread to think how long it’s been since his body saw fresh vegetables.”

Ella snickered, and pushed to her feet as Jefferson bounded up the stairs, throwing himself onto the couch next to Gold with a weary sigh.

“I’ll get more drinks,” announced Ella, and sauntered off.  

Gold looked at Jefferson.

“Well?” he asked, and Jefferson pouted.

“I haven’t slept since you came over last night,” he complained.  “That thing you asked me to build is kicking my ass!”

“If it was easy, I wouldn’t be paying you so much,” remarked Gold, and Jefferson sat forward, gesturing at himself.

“Man, I have eye-bags down to my _chest_!” he grumbled.  “This fucking thing is killing me.  I’ve been mainlining caffeine ever since you showed up and my brain hurts and I look as though someone punched me.”

“Are you saying you can’t do it?”

“Hey, this is _me_!” said Jefferson, looking offended.  “Of course I can do it!  I just wanted to let you know that it may very well be the cause of my death.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”  

Gold grinned, taking a sip of his drink, and Jefferson sent him a look.

“My sex life already took a beating because of this, you know.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” said Gold, rolling his eyes.

“It’s true!” protested Jefferson.  “I saw the hot guy from the floor above today - because of course I _would_ have to see him today when I look like a pile of shit - and d’you know what he said to me?”

“Astonish me,” said Gold dryly.

“Bear in mind I haven’t seen him for a few weeks, but we’d kind of been flirting for months,” added Jefferson.  “He said: ‘your smile isn’t as bright as it used to be’.  To _me_!  He asked me if I was _ill_ , for God’s sake!  I’ve been laying groundwork with that guy for _weeks_ and now I’ve blown it!”

“Your unsuccessful mating attempts hold no interest for me,” said Gold.  “I merely wanted a progress report.  And I also thought you should get out of the house and eat something other than food you can make in a toaster.”

“I could eat, now you mention it,” admitted Jefferson.

“Good.  You should also drink something other than that god-awful taurine concoction that passes for a beverage.  Talk to me about the device.”

Jefferson sat forward, hands clasped in front of him.

“Okay, so I _think_ I know how it’ll work,” he said, and his eyes brightened in excitement at the challenge, making Belle smile.  “I’m just having some problems writing the code and covering all bases, if you know what I mean.”

Ella appeared, setting a tall drink in front of Jefferson, which Belle suspected was rum and Coke.  Gold took another drink as Ella sat down.

“Good,” he said.  “And we’re still on target?”

“I think so.  Yes, yes, we’re on target.”

“Excellent.  So you complaining was just for show, as usual.”

“Hey, I still struck out with the wizard guy!” he protested.

“Wizard guy?” asked Belle, puzzled, and Jefferson grinned, waving a hand.

“Oh, first time I saw him he was wearing this dark suit and a long coat and looking all mysterious,” he explained, bouncing a little in his seat.  “I kind of imagined he was an Auror out of Harry Potter and he’d come to Obliviate me.  Then my imagination ran wild and I couldn’t look him in the face for about three days.  So now he’s just Wizard Guy.”

“He probably works in insurance,” said Gold bluntly, and Jefferson pouted.

“Don’t say that!  I went and bought new lucky underwear!”

“How can it be lucky underwear if it’s new?”

“Because I look good in it and I plan on getting very lucky,” said Jefferson patiently.

“Clearly I’ve been buying the wrong underwear,” remarked Ella.

Belle giggled, sucking punch through a straw, and Gold met her eyes with a grin.


	24. "I Don't Know If I Should Kiss You Or Slap You"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @tinuviel-undomiel prompted: "42: I don't know if I should kiss you or slap you"

Jefferson called them on the third day, sounding weary but satisfied.

“It’s done,” was all he said, and Gold arranged a time to meet.

He had visited a bank before they made the journey to the Village, and Belle was aware that there was a substantial amount of cash in a thick brown envelope under his coat.  The elevator in Jefferson’s apartment block made its shuddering journey upwards, and Belle took Gold’s hand, wanting that contact, that warmth.  She was beginning to grow nervous over their coming journey, and the inevitable confrontation.

Jefferson’s apartment was as messy as ever, and the man himself looked like what he was: someone who had not slept in some time and lived on a diet of energy drinks, soda and processed food.  He ran a hand through his hair, his fingers shaking a little, and Belle hugged him impulsively.

“You should get some rest,” she said, and he sighed.

“I’ll take a day off when you guys leave,” he said.  “No doubt your man Gold here will remind me why it was worth it.”

“Let’s see the thing first,” said Gold, and Jefferson turned towards his desk, spreading his arms wide as he gestured to an innocuous-looking box about the size of a box of Kleenex.

“Behold!” he announced.  “The answer to your prayers!”

“Not much for praying, personally,” remarked Gold, looking over the box.  “This is it?”

“That’s it,” said Jefferson proudly.  “I could have made it smaller, but I was limited in the stuff I could cannibalise and the parts I could get at short notice.  It’ll do, right?”

“Assuming it works,” agreed Gold.

“I presume it’s to pair with phones so we can give it commands?” asked Belle, and Jefferson nodded, reaching for two standard smart phone handsets.

“I’ve paired it with these two,” he said.  “Anything else is locked out.  Standard commands, and the password’s here.”  

He held up a piece of paper with a single word written on it, a mix of letters, numbers and symbols. _0ut5!d3r_.

“Got it,” said Belle, and Gold nodded.

“Once you’re in the system, you’ll have maybe half an hour,” he said.  “Could be less; I’ve programmed it to keep blocking the code that spots an intruder, but these things can be tricky.”

“I need a definitive maximum time,” said Gold, and Jefferson sucked his teeth.

“Twenty minutes at least,” he said, and Gold nodded.

“It’s enough.  You can get rid of that password.”

Jefferson scrunched up the paper and ate it, much to Belle’s amusement.

“No doubt you’re used to eating tasteless junk with zero nutrition,” said Gold dryly.  “Perhaps you can use the money I’m about to give you to buy some actual food.”

“Man, as soon as you guys leave, I’m gonna order a pizza, sink a couple of beers and sleep for three days,” groaned Jefferson.

Gold smiled briefly as he reached into his inside pocket, and Jefferson’s eyes lit up as he saw the envelope.

“Three days of mental torture but a bunch of cash to show for it,” he said, with a grin.  “I don’t know if I should kiss you or slap you.”

“Do either and you’re a dead man,” said Gold coldly, dropping the money onto the desk.  “And pay for a bloody cleaner, for God’s sake, this place is a midden.”

“Yes, sir!”  Jefferson flipped a salute, and Gold sighed, rolling his eyes.

“We’ll be on our way, then,” he said.  “If you see Ella and the others, tell them I’ll be in touch in a week or so.”

“No problem.”  Jefferson hugged Belle, who squeezed him tight.

“You take care of yourself,” he said, his voice muffled by her hair.  “Stay out of trouble and just press buttons, okay?  Let Gold do the life-or-death stuff - the guy has nine lives.”

“And my current one is running out as I wait for you to finish being dramatic,” said Gold.  “I’ll be in touch.”

Belle pressed a kiss to Jefferson’s cheek as she pulled back.

“Stay safe,” she said, and squeezed his hand once before falling into step beside Gold.

* * *

They left at six the next morning while it was still dark, making their way out of the city before the majority of the commuters were on the roads.  Gold headed west, the rising sun behind them, and Belle dozed in the seat next to him, the journey causing a few strange and disturbing dreams to steal her rest.  She jerked awake as they passed through Harrisburg, and Gold suggested that they stop for coffee.  Suitably refreshed, they continued until the sun set once more, finally turning off at the first motel they saw when they crossed into Indiana.  Belle was tired, and she could only imagine how Gold felt, given that he’d been the one driving.  The motel had a large neon sign advertising its presence.   _‘Neverland’_ was displayed in bright bluish light with two stylised stars winking to the right of it.

“This’ll do,” said Gold quietly, and pulled into the parking lot.

The young man behind the reception desk had a name badge that read ‘Peter’ and a permanent smirk on his face that Belle didn’t much care for.  He kept glancing between the two of them, as though he was trying to work out what their relationship was.  His brows lifted a little when Gold asked for a double room, and he winked at Belle when he was handing over the key cards.

“You two enjoy your night,” he said, a little too suggestively to be entirely innocent, and Belle glared at him.

The room was clean, at least, only a little light from the neon sign shining in through the window, and the noise from the interstate was muted enough that they would be able to sleep.  They showered and changed and slipped into bed, Belle draping herself over his chest, too sleepy to want to fool around.  One day down, and probably another two to go.  And then what?  She chewed her lip anxiously as she heard Gold’s breathing steady, his body twitching slightly as he drifted to sleep.  So many things could go wrong.  Her father could know they were coming.  They could have been betrayed by someone they trusted.  Jefferson’s creation might not work, and Gold could enter her father’s house to find his men waiting with loaded guns.  She shuddered at the thought.  No.  No matter what, he would not be going alone.


	25. "Could You Be Any Louder?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @betweenpaperpages prompted: The Outsider: 6 - could you be any louder?

It was still dark when Belle awoke, heart thumping hard as she clawed her way out of a nightmare.  She lay there in the darkness, breathing hard as the night terrors faded, clinging to the warm body beside her.  Gold was stroking her hair, whispering soothing nonsense to her, and she swallowed hard, trying to stop shaking.

“You were talking in your sleep,” he murmured.  “Are you alright?”

“Nightmare,” was all she said, and she felt him nod.

“Come here,” he whispered, and tugged her close, bending his head to kiss her gently.

Belle opened her mouth for him, pressing herself against him.  The scent of him was soothing, and the feel of his arms around her made her feel safe, and loved.  Her hands sank into his hair, and she pulled him down on her, Gold shifting his body a little so that he was lying on top of her.  She could feel him starting to swell against her leg, and she wanted him, wanted him to kiss her and make love to to her, to chase away the darkness that had pursued her for so long and smother it with his own.  He began kissing down her neck, and she moaned, feeling the scrape of his stubble against her skin.

Gold pulled at her skin as he moved lower, his mouth trailing over her breast and taking the nipple in between his lips.  It hardened almost at once, a taut bud pressing against his tongue, and he sucked at it, letting out a contented sound as Belle pushed up against him with a tiny moan.  He reached between her legs, gently stroking against the velvet petals of flesh and releasing a sudden rush of slippery fluid.  Belle moaned aloud, opening her legs wider, and he slowly pushed a finger inside her, sliding deep, his thumb seeking her clit.  It was hard and swollen, coated in her juices, and he groaned as he began to rub at her, his cock straining against her inner thigh, desperate to be inside her.

“Oh _God_!” gasped Belle, as he rubbed at her with slow, circular motions.  “Oh God, that’s amazing!  Oh, I’m gonna - I’m gonna…”

She came hard, shouting wordlessly, jerking against his hand, and he groaned in time with her, his fingers thrusting in and out.  God, she was breathtaking!

“I want you!” she moaned.  “Please, I want you inside me!”

He groped blindly for a condom, finding one more by luck than judgement, and wrestled with it with hands that were too slippery to cope before swearing under his breath and tearing the packet open with his teeth.  Rolling it on, he took himself in hand and pushed inside her with a loud groan of pleasure, Belle throwing back her head with an answering cry.  He began to thrust, hard, his movements ragged and desperate, drawing harsh cries from her with every pounding movement.  It was a thing of rough longing, of the need to cling to one another, and he bent to kiss her messily, his fingers leaving sticky trails of her cum on her skin and in her hair.  Belle pumped against him, tugging at him, pulling at him, her cries growing louder as she neared her peak once more.  They came together with a shout, the feel of it almost making him lose his mind, and he gripped her hips tightly as he thrust up inside her with a final loud groan of completion.

Belle fell back against the pillows, gasping for breath, her heart thudding in her chest as Gold collapsed onto her.

“Wow,” she murmured, feeling him smile against her skin.

“Are you alright?”

“I will be.”  She stroked his hair, drawing heavy breaths as she tried to calm herself.  “You?”

“I’m very happy,” he said, and she grinned.

“Really?  Despite where we are and where we’re going?”

Gold pushed himself up on his elbows to look down at her, and used the nail of his index finger to pick a curl up off her cheek and tuck it behind her ear.

“Well, that only becomes a concern when you think we won’t win,” he said.  “And I happen to know that we will.”

Belle let her hands rest at his waist, feeling him shrink inside her and slip from her body.

“And then what?” she asked.  “What happens when we win?”

His lips twitched with a tiny smile.

“Then we go home, drink tea, and get on with our lives,” he said.

“In Storybrooke?”

“If you like.”

“I would,” she said decidedly.  “I’d like it very much.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do.”  He bent his head to kiss her, rolling onto his back and pulling her with him, and she kissed him hungrily, her hands sliding over his chest and around his back.  There were a few hours left before they absolutely had to get up.

* * *

Dawn had already arrived when they finally rose and dressed.  Belle zipped up her boots, yawning as she did so, and Gold grinned at her from the other side of the bed, shrugging on his overcoat.

“Coffee, I think,” he said knowingly.  “There was a diner nearby, we’ll go and get breakfast.”

“Good idea,” agreed Belle.

They had spent the rest of the night enjoying one another, and as such she was tired and sore, but very happy.  They had a long drive ahead of them, and the thought of a decent breakfast and lots of coffee was making her mouth water.

Gold opened up the door to their motel room, carrying the bags outside one by one as Belle followed him out.  There was a scrabbling noise and the rattle of a chain from the room next door, and the door was wrenched open, a woman in her thirties glaring at them.

“Oh my God, could you be _any louder_?” she demanded, flying red curls and a snarling expression making her look a little unhinged.  “I’ve been awake since the two of you _started_!  I have an _important meeting_ to attend, and _you_ two have kept me up for bloody hours!”

“A thousand apologies,” said Gold calmly, showing his teeth with a glint of gold.  “We couldn’t hear anything from your room, so we had no idea the walls were so thin.”

“Well, of _course_ you wouldn’t hear anything from _my_ room!” snapped the woman.  “I came here to bloody sleep, not bang like a bloody rabbit!”

“Your loss,” said Belle, and the woman glared at her before disappearing into her own room and slamming the door.  Gold winced.

“Well, I don’t suppose that’ll make her popular with the other residents,” he said lightly.  “Shall we go?”


	26. "If You Really Loved Me There Wouldn't Be a Choice"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @still-searching47 prompted: Outsider prompt 44: "if you really loved me there wouldn't be a choice"

Gold was in a good mood.  The sun was out, the sky a clear, cornflower blue as they drove south west.  Despite the fact that they had spent some of the night enjoying one another, he was feeling alert and contented, one hand resting on Belle’s thigh as they drove along.  They stopped for coffee, and once to eat fried chicken in a roadside diner, and pulled off the interstate north west of Tulsa as the sun set.  The motel they found looked to be a little better than the _Neverland_ , and Gold left Belle to shower and change as he went to find take-out pizza and cold beers.

The pizza place was quiet, and Gold took a seat to wait for their food, his eyes on the small television in the corner.  The news presenter was talking about the killing of an armed man in Dallas by police, who were yet to release a statement, but the next story made Gold sit forward in his chair.  Footage taken inside a warehouse: a truck opening up and two dozen or so young women and girls being herded out by men with guns.  The presenter explained that it appeared to be evidence of human trafficking in the South West of the US, that the footage was rumoured to have been taken on premises owned by Maurice Marchland, a successful businessman, and that police had declined to comment on any investigation.  Gold grinned to himself.  Enough to keep Belle’s father occupied with damage-control until they reached Phoenix.

His eyes widened as a picture of Belle appeared on the screen. 

“And in a bizarre coincidence,” went on the presenter.  “The daughter of Maurice Marchland has been reported missing.  Belle Marchland is nineteen years old, five feet two and said to be in a vulnerable mental state.  Anyone with information is asked to telephone the number on the screen.”

Gold’s mouth flattened.  Well, _that_ complicated things somewhat.  He made a mental note of the number, in case he wanted to feed some false information about Belle’s whereabouts to whomever it belonged to.  One of the staff slid his pizza box across the counter, and he got to his feet, taking it up with a nod of thanks.

Belle merely shrugged when he told her, lifting a piece of pizza out of the box, stretching and snapping strings of cheese as she did so.

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” she said, licking grease from her thumb.  “I guess I’ll have to stay out of sight from now on, huh?”

“Well, I wouldn’t suggest that you advertise your presence, but we should be alright as long as we’re careful,” said Gold, taking the top off a bottle of cold beer.  “You hair was tied up in the picture, so it might help to wear it loose.”

“Not a problem,” she said, and took an enormous bite out of the pizza.  “I guess in a few days it won’t matter anymore, right?”

She looked a little anxious, her eyes round and bright, and he wanted to reassure her.  To reassure himself.

“Right,” he said.

* * *

Later, as they lay in the dark in one another’s arm, Belle chewed her lip, worrying over what the coming days might bring.  Gold kissed her forehead, fingers gently stroking her naked back.

“We should get there tomorrow,” he said, as though he knew what she was thinking.

“Yeah.”  She was silent for a moment.  “When will we - go in?”

He kissed her again.

“Recon first, murder later,” he said.  “I want to know exactly what I’m getting into.”

“Wanna get into me?” she asked teasingly, and sensed he was grinning.

“Hmm.  Battle planning so I don’t die, or indulging myself with your delightful charms,” he said dryly.  “What a terrible choice to have to make.”

“Well, if you _really_ loved me, there wouldn’t _be_ a choice,” she said, running a finger over his chest, and squealed as he turned and flipped her onto her back.

“How about I choose both?” he growled, and began kissing his way down.

* * *

The remainder of their road trip was thankfully uneventful.  Belle kept her head down and her sunglasses on whenever they encountered people, but no one gave her a second glance, and as the evening of the third day approached they pulled into a motel on the outskirts of Phoenix.

“We’re not far from my father’s place,” she said, as Gold drew the curtains at the bedroom window.  “You want to head out there?”

“Do you think he’s more likely to be there now than tomorrow?” he asked, and she nodded.

“Bad guys come out at night, right?” she said ruefully, and he grinned.

“So it would appear.”

“Well, then.”

He opened the door, holding it for her to walk through, and they made their way out to the car, the evening air cool on Belle’s face.  She directed Gold to drive west, circling a little way out and heading up into the gentle hills of the desert.  Gold pulled to a stop at the touch of Belle’s hand on his knee, and she pointed down the hill, to where a large white-painted stone house sat behind walls twice the height of a man.  Gold switched off the lights and reached into the glove box for a set of binoculars.

“Men walking inside,” he said quietly.  “Looks like a patrol.  Guns on their belts.”

“They tend to move in twos,” she said, and he nodded.

“So I see.”  He checked his watch.  “Okay I’m timing them.  What about in the house itself?  You said your father was likely to have armed guards.”

“Either two or three, depending on how paranoid he’s feeling,” she confirmed.  “Do you want to go over the layout again?”

“No, I remember it.”  He was squinting through the binoculars.  “I see a black Bentley.  That’s his, then.”

“If the Bentley’s there, he’s there,” said Belle.  She took a deep breath.  “I’m coming with you.”

“No,” said Gold calmly, and she scowled.

“Why not?”

“You know why not,” he said, still watching the place.  “Your father ordered you to be killed.  What makes you think the men here won’t just shoot you on sight?”

She supposed he was right about that, but it still rankled to be left behind.

“I need you to get me in there, anyway,” he added.  “Did you look over Jefferson’s creation?”

“Oh, it’ll work,” she assured him.  “It’s pretty clever stuff, to be honest.  I mean I’m good at getting into systems, but next to him I’m an amateur.  We’ll need to be closer, though.”

“I suggest we approach from the north,” he said.  “I’ll make my way to your father’s rooms, complete the mission, and get out.”

“Right,” said Belle, her voice sounding small, and Gold gave her knee a comforting squeeze.

“We’ll be in communication the whole time, alright?” he said.  “An hour at most, and we’ll be done.  No longer.”

“And then we can go home,” she said, hoping with every fibre of her being that he would make it out.  Gold turned his head with a smile, his eyes crinkling, warmth flooding through her from the look of love in them.

“Then we can go home,” he echoed.


	27. "You're An Idiot, I've Met Smarter Sandwiches"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous prompted: 39 and 42 pls
> 
> I already did 42, so here's 39

Gold drove closer to the complex, parking out of sight behind the scrub and stunted bushes that covered the lee of the small hill to the north.  Belle sat with Jefferson’s box on her lap, thumb flickering over the keypad of the phone that was linked to it.

“Okay, I’m in,” she said.  “I’ve set the security cameras up to play their recordings in a loop, so you won’t show up on the monitors, right?”

“You’re remarkable,” he said quietly, and she blushed, pleased.

“It should take me five minutes or so to disable everything,” she said.  “Are you ready?”

Gold flashed her a grin, all white teeth and sparkling eyes, and she could have sworn he was enjoying himself, despite the danger.

“Ready when you are,” he said, and got out of the car, opening up the trunk and taking out the leather bag of weapons.

He didn’t take them all, merely slipping one of the Glocks under his coat and fitting a silencer to the other, the barrel looking unnaturally long because of it.  There was a clinking sound as he carefully lifted out two little glass vials and tucked them into the pocket of his overcoat.  

“What are those?” asked Belle, interested, and he grinned.

“An old trick I learned,” he said.  “Throw them at the wall and they’ll make a loud bang and a lot of smoke.  Either a distraction, or a lure.”

He checked the hunting knife strapped to his bad ankle, and Belle bit her lip.  She had never asked him how he had been injured, and suddenly it seemed important, that she should know more of his past, of _him_ , before he walked away to face her father and his men.

“I think there’s a lot we need to talk about,” she said.

“I suspect so,” he said.  “But now is not the time.”

“No,” she agreed.  “But later, okay?  I want to know how you got here, how you can do all this.  I want to know _you_.”

He straightened, tugging at the cuffs of his jacket.

“Well, when I return, I’ll share my tale,” he said lightly.  “It’ll give us something to discuss on the way home, yes?”

She nodded, flicking her eyes back to the phone.

“The door locks should be open and the alarms silent,” she said.  “You can go in.  I’ll keep jamming the signals from the system, okay?”

“Thank you, Belle,” he said, and she chewed her lip.

“Remember there’s a side door into the house,” she said.  “You can reach it through the garage.”

Gold plugged headphones into the jack of his phone, putting an earbud in and slipping the phone into his pocket.

“Oh, worry not, I’ll be going in through the front,” he said, with a grin.  “It’s more dramatic.”

His grin widened, and she sighed.

“Just come back to me,” she said.  “Please.”

“I promise,” he said.  “Call my number and you’ll be able to hear what’s going on, at least until I get in there.  We won’t be able to talk when I’m sneaking around, but I’ll speak when I can.”

“Fine,” she sighed, fretting, and he reached down to cup her cheek, his touch warm against her skin.

“Stay out of sight, you hear?” he said quietly.  “And don’t come after me, no matter what.”

She rolled her eyes, but dialled his number, and listened to the sound of his breathing through the tiny speaker on his headphones.  He flashed her another grin, giving her a tiny bow, and sauntered off in the direction of the complex, tucking the gun in his pocket.  She watched the desert wind ruffle his hair and lift the tails of his coat, moonlight glinting on the ebony length of his cane, until the darkness swallowed him up.

Gold listened to the noises of the desert at night, the chirp of insects and the rustle of rodents in the dry brush.  The sound of his shoes on parched, rough ground.  Ahead of him, the white mass of Maurice Marchland’s lair rose up in the moonlight, and Gold kept a sharp eye out for men on the walls, seeing no one.  There would be patrols inside, though.  He would need to avoid them.  Or kill them.

“I’ve disabled the lock of the main gates.”  Belle’s quiet voice came through his headphones.  “You should be able to just walk in, okay?”

“Understood.”

He reached the heavy gates, and waited in the darkness until the pair of guards made their rounds, the two men bickering with one another about some sporting match that Gold had no interest in.

“Look, all I’m saying is that if the coach didn’t favour the guy, he wouldn’t be such a fucking girl on the field,” one was saying.  “He needs to man up; the team’s more than one player, I don’t care how much he cost.”

“You’re an _idiot_!” said the other scornfully.  “I’ve met smarter sandwiches!  He’s their _star player_ , you moron!  He wins, they all win, right?  Of _course_ the coach is gonna favour him!”

The men moved off, and Gold waited a full minute before pushing at the wrought-iron gate ahead of him.  It opened easily, the electronic lock cut by Belle, and he slipped inside as quick as a snake and closed it behind him, slinking into the shadows and making his way towards the house.  He slipped in through a door that opened at his touch, and grinned to himself.

“Okay, I’m in,” he whispered.  “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, of course, but what about _you_?” Belle said softly.  “Stop talking and concentrate on what’s around you!”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, amused, and grinned at her hiss of frustration.  “I’ll call you when I have something to report, okay?”

He ended the call, tucking the ear bud in his pocket again with the phone, and slipped along the corridor like smoke, ears pricked for any sign of life.

“Hey, who are you?”

Gold spun on his toes, whipping his cane upwards and catching a very surprised-looking man hard in the groin.  The man collapsed without a sound, and Gold bent to draw the knife, slitting his throat with a practised slice.  He cleaned the knife on the man's shirt, sheathing it beneath the leg of his suit pants and straightening up.  Then he kept going, making his way through the kitchens and up a set of back stairs, the layout of the house as clear as a map in his mind’s eye.  The sound of voices approached and he ducked into an open doorway, letting the shadows of an empty room flow over him and hide his presence.

“We’ve had a sighting,” one of the men was saying.  “Some motel up in Indiana.  He’ll want one of us to go, scope it out.”

“Wipe the _bitch_ out, you mean?” said the other, and they both snickered.

“Well, she could have moved on by now, I guess, but she’s with a guy, if it’s her.”

Gold watched as two men with guns at their belts passed the doorway in which he waited, part of the darkness.

“I’ve got a description,” the man went on.  “Some old guy with a limp, should only be a one-man job.”

Gold stepped out in the corridor behind them.

“Oh, I beg to differ,” he said, and fired twice as they turned, the silencer emitting tiny shrieks as the bullets flew, blood spraying like spilled wine.  Both men dropped, dark holes between their eyes, and Gold skirted the bodies, sidestepping the worst of the blood splatters.  _Two down._ He estimated another two before he could reach the central apartments that Belle had said her father was most likely to occupy.  Noises ahead made him duck out of sight again, and he almost laughed as two more men sauntered in front of him.  The idiots made it too easy.  There were two more squeaks from the gun, two thumps as bodies hit the ground, and he relaxed back into his rapid, uneven stride, flowing along the corridor like the inevitable coming of night.

The decor was plush in the centre of the house, the apartments of its owner decorated with rich silk carpets patterned in gold and green against cream-painted walls.  He moved silently but for the gentle tap of his cane, his senses heightened.  The murmur of voices came from up ahead, and he checked the bullets in his gun, calmly reloading before moving closer.

“I don’t care how many fake sightings you have to wade through!” a voice snapped.  “And no, I don’t want her killed yet, okay?  We need to know what she has, first, and who she’s given it to.  I can’t expect our guys in the Bureau to keep stalling when I don’t know what the hell’s gonna turn up on the news next, understand?”

Gold moved closer, wondering if the time was ripe to use a distraction or two.  Staying still and letting them come to him seemed efficient.  He slunk back along the corridor, and reached into his inside pocket for one of the tiny vials he had taken from the bag.  There was an innocuous looking clear liquid inside, and he hurled it at the wall opposite, creating a loud bang followed by a cloud of white smoke.

“What the fuck was that?” snapped the first voice.

“Nothing on the monitors,” said the second.  “Someone’s gun go off by accident, d’you think?”

“How the hell should I know?  Get your arse out there and look!” bellowed the first voice.  “Do I have to do everything my fucking self, what am I paying you for?”

There was the sound of movement, and Gold grinned to himself.   _Almost done._

* * *

Belle was almost beside herself with frustration at not knowing what was going on, not knowing whether Gold was alive.  There had been no commotion of any sort from the house, so she presumed he had gotten inside without incident.  The guards were still making their circuit of the place, and her thumbs flew across the phone screen as the security system tried to reassert its default settings.  She frowned as she worked, willing the phone to ring.  A knock on the window made her jump almost out of her skin.

“Well, well,” said a voice, and she recognised the leering face of one of her father’s men.  “What have we here?  You know everyone’s looking for you, little lady?”

Belle’s eyes widened, and she locked the car door quickly, squirming in her seat as she tried to reach for something, anything, with which to defend herself.  The man simply smashed the window with the gun in his hand, glass scattering over her, and she shrieked, trying to twist away as he grabbed for her.

“Oh, no you don’t!” he said firmly, dragging her out.  “The boss wants to see you, missy!”

* * *

Gold stepped over the bodies of the two men, avoiding the blood that was sinking into the carpet in a spreading tide of crimson.  He let the gun hang loose in his hand, listening to the silence around him.  The lamps in the corridor cast a warm glow, fewer shadows here in which to hide, and he settled into a relaxed pace, sauntering along the corridor to where he knew his prey waited.  Rounding an open doorway, he saw a large, opulent study with walls lined with books and a tall, stockily-built man bending over a series of files on a polished wooden desk.

“I take it it was nothing,” he said, not looking around.

“Depends on your point of view,” said Gold.

The man straightened with a start, reaching for the gun at his belt before noticing that Gold’s was already trained on him.  He let his hand fall to the side, his eyes narrowing in surprise, and he nodded.

“Mr Gold,” he said carefully.  “Been a while.”

Gold smiled, his gold tooth glinting briefly.

“Hello, Maurice.”


	28. "So Much For Not Getting Involved"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @nerdrumple prompted: Outsider prompt 23: "So much for not getting involved"

Maurice stared at him for a long moment.

“How the hell did you get in here?” he asked.

“Through the front door,” said Gold airily.  “I have to say I would have thought you’d have better security, or are the news reports of your nefarious activities untrue?”

“And my men?”

“Dead - well, some of them, anyway.”  Gold pulled a face.  “No doubt some will still try to prove themselves.”

Maurice flattened his mouth, his expression grim.

“So, I guess I have you to thank for that video footage of the last moments of the two I sent north,” he said.  "Made for grisly viewing."

Gold shrugged.

“They tried to kill someone in my town,” he said.  “You understand why I couldn’t allow that.”

”Of course.”  Maurice crossed to a drinks cabinet.  “I had no idea they were on your territory.  Whisky?”

“Thank you.”

Maurice opened up a bottle, pouring amber liquid into two glasses.

“They never were that good at thinking on their feet,” he added.  “No hard feelings?”

“Well, they’re dead,” said Gold carelessly.  “So I no longer find them offensive.”

He took the glass that Maurice held out to him, but didn’t drink.

“I was told you’d retired,” said Maurice.  “Been off the scene a good fifteen years, I thought.”

“Do men like us ever really retire?”

“I guess not.”  Maurice took a mouthful of his whisky, watching Gold over the rim of his glass.  “So.  I take it you met my wayward daughter.”

“I did.”

“What did she offer you?”

Gold raised the whisky glass, flicking his hair back.

“A chance to see if I’d gotten rusty,” he said.  “Turns out I haven’t.”

“She went to you for help?”  Maurice shook his head.  “I didn’t think she knew who you were.  Our last association was before her time.”

“Oh, she didn’t,” said Gold.  “Our meeting was what you might call a happy accident.  She turned up at my local diner, and I bought her breakfast.  I had no intention of getting involved in anything else that was going on in her life, but I have to confess that she intrigued me.  I wanted to know more about her.  So I offered her a job.”

“You fucking her?”

“Yes.”

“I see.”  Maurice took a large swallow of the whisky, not blinking.  “A little young for you, isn’t she?”

Gold let the corner of his mouth pull upwards.  “Well, she rather insisted.”

Maurice’s grip tightened on the glass, his jaw clenching a little, but he said nothing.  Gold’s twisted smile grew a little.

“So,” said Maurice.  “You’re here to kill me.”

“I’m here to protect Belle,” Gold corrected.  “If that means killing you, which I suspect it will…”  He showed his teeth.  “Well, you understand, I’m sure.”

“So much for not getting involved,” remarked Maurice, and Gold shrugged.

“Priorities change,” he said.  “You too will go to extreme lengths to protect what’s yours, as I understand it.  Even as far as ordering a hit on your own daughter.”

“Loyalty is everything in this business, Gold.”  He took another drink, raising his glass.  “You should know that more than anyone.”

“Yes.”  Gold was silent for a moment.  “It was misguided loyalty that caused me the most pain, in the end.”

Maurice set down his glass and poured himself another whisky.

“I did hear something else about you,” he said.  “I heard rumours that you were actually on the other side - Special Forces, MI6 or something - and your entire life here was a sham.”

“Imagine that.”  Gold raised the glass to his lips, smirking.  “The things one hears.  If that had been true, do you think any of our old acquaintances would have left me alive?”

Maurice grunted.

“I guess not.”  He took another drink, watching Gold over the rim of his glass.  “So, how do we end this?  You think you can kill me and just walk on out of here?”

“Well, I just walked on in,” said Gold bluntly.  “Shall we see if my luck holds?”

“Let _go_ of me!”

His head whipped around at the sound of Belle’s voice, his heart thumping, and she appeared in the doorway, struggling in the arms of a dark-haired man, her face red with anger.  Gold heard the click of a gun behind him, and cursed inwardly at his own loss of concentration.  He was getting old.

“Drop it,” said Maurice evenly.  “Or I tell Jonathan here to break her neck.”

The man tightened his arm around Belle’s throat, making her squeak in alarm and rise up on her toes, and Gold grimaced.

“Drop it,” Maurice repeated, and he scowled, setting the gun down on the desk.

Belle was staring at him with wide, frightened eyes, and his heart ached for her.

“Well then,” said Maurice grimly, turning to Belle.  “Look at all the trouble you’ve caused me, young lady.”


	29. "Maybe You're Not Thinking Hard Enough"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @betweenpaperpages prompted: 19 & 37 look like they would fit very well thank you in the current happenings of the story.
> 
> 37 has been sent to me by someone else, so here's 19!

Belle glared at her father, eyes flashing.  Maurice held her gaze for a moment, then chuckled.  He gestured to the man holding her.

“Let her up, Jonathan,” he said.  “If she makes a move I’ll shoot her.”

Jonathan loosened his arm from around Belle’s throat, and she pulled free, glaring at him.  Maurice shook his head.

“So, my daughter teams up with an old rival,” he said, sounding amused.  “I guess you’re making up for not going through a rebellious phase as a teenager, hmm?”  

He cocked his head at Belle’s widened eyes, and gestured between himself and Gold with the gun.

“Oh yes, we know each other,” he said.  “Didn’t tell you that, did he?”

_ “What?” _ she whispered, and Maurice grinned.

“I’m surprised I haven’t earned your sympathy with this family drama, Gold,” he said cheerfully.  “Personally I can’t think of anything worse than raising a child who goes on to betray you.”

“Well, maybe you’re not thinking hard enough,” said Gold quietly.

Belle looked at Gold, who returned her gaze calmly.  She glanced away, swallowing.

“His past doesn’t matter,” she said, and her father chuckled again, as though he could hear the lie in her voice.

“I’m disappointed in you, Belle,” he said.  “Running away like that.  Do you know how worried I’ve been?”

“Worried that you couldn’t kill me quickly enough, I guess,” she said dryly.  Maurice curled his lip, the smile draining from his face like water.

“I should have had sons,” he said, disgusted.  “I should have known better than to trust a woman to keep her mouth shut.  Spying on me, sharing my secrets.  Where the hell’s your loyalty?”

_ “Loyalty?”  _ she spat, furious.  “You killed my  _ mother _ !”

“Sentiment and business never mix,” he said coldly.  “I tried to teach you that, but you were as soft-hearted as she was.  You both betrayed me, and you know the price for betrayal.”

There was the sound of footsteps in the corridor outside, and another man entered, eyes widening as he assessed the situation.  He reached for his gun, but Maurice held up a quelling hand.  Belle lifted her chin.

“You’re a coward!” she said witheringly.  “And you won’t get away with this!  We took precautions!”

“Precautions?”

“Oh, indeed,” said Gold, in a bland voice.  “The evidence your daughter gathered is in a safe place.  Do you honestly think I’d come on this mission without a little insurance?”

“Given that you seem to have lost your edge enough to end up at the wrong end of a gun, I wouldn’t be surprised,” said Maurice, with a nasty grin.

“We all get old,” said Gold, with a shrug.

Belle looked between them with narrowed eyes.

“He’s right,” she said, her jaw protruding in defiance.  “If you kill us, all that evidence will be released to the authorities within twenty-four hours.  We have a contact at the FBI.”

Maurice looked at her for a long moment, then broke into a smile.

“I may not be able to tell when  _ he’s _ lying,” he said, jerking a thumb at Gold.  “But I can always tell when  _ you _ are, my girl.  And right now, you’re lying through your teeth.”

Belle’s jaw tightened, and his lip curled again as he nodded to his two men.

“Take them both into the desert and kill them,” he said.  “And make the grave deep - I don’t want any mistakes like last time, you understand?”

“Boss,” affirmed Jonathan.

“You’d better search the bastard first,” added Maurice.

The second man kept his gun trained on Gold while Jonathan patted his waist, reaching in to pull out the second gun he had there.  Gold grimaced as it was flung onto the desk with the other.  The man patted down his legs, eyeing Maurice with a satisfied look as he found the knife strapped there and pulled it out, throwing it aside as he straightened up.  He nodded to Gold.

“Your cane,” he said, and Gold rolled his eyes.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, I’m lame!” he snapped.  “If you want to carry me out to the car, fine, but otherwise I need the bloody thing!”

Jonathan looked at Maurice, who nodded.

“Check his pockets,” he said.

Jonathan quickly patted the pockets of Gold’s overcoat, frowning as he did so.  He pushed open the coat on one side, reaching into the pocket and pulling out a small glass vial, filled with a clear liquid.

“What the hell..?”

“Please!”  Gold raised a hand, a desperate look in his eyes.  “Please, be careful!  I need that!”

The man held up the glass vial, his brow creasing as he looked at the contents.

“You  _ need _ it?” he sneered.  “What is it, drugs?”

“It’s pain relief,” said Gold, urgency in his voice.  “I need it for my fucking leg!”

“A smashed ankle is the least of your problems, Gold,” said Maurice scornfully.

“No, no, you don’t understand!” said Gold, sending him a pleading look.  “If - if I don’t take that soon I could have a seizure!”

“Then I look forward to seeing you writhing on the floor at my feet,” said Maurice, and jerked his head at Jonathan.  “Smash that thing!”

“No!” shouted Gold, and Jonathan grinned widely, holding up the vial and shaking it back and forth in a taunting manner before hurling it to the floor.

There was a deafening  _ bang _ and a plume of white smoke filled the room.  Gold instantly grabbed for his gun and fired twice, hitting Jonathan in the chest and blowing a hole in the other man’s skull.  Belle had dropped to the ground with the explosion, and got to her feet in time to see Gold and her father turn on one another in the veil of smoke, arms straight out, guns pointed at one another’s heads.  Maurice was breathing hard.

“Pain relief?” he gasped, and Gold smirked.

“Like you said.”  He winked.  “You can’t tell when I’m lying.”

Belle ducked her head, covering her face with her hands as the gun went off, and heard a heavy thump as a body hit the floor.  She was shaking in the heavy silence, but heard movement beside her and felt gentle hands on her shoulders.

“Don’t look,” said Gold softly.  “It’s over, alright?  You’re safe.”

He pulled her to her feet, and she wrapped her arms around him, breathing in his scent as she trembled.  Gold kissed the top of her head, holding her close, and she let out a tiny sob.

“We have to go, he said quietly.  “The noise will draw others, we need to get out of here.”

She nodded, and took a step back, refusing to look at the bodies on the floor.  Gold picked up his knife, sheathing it and tucking the loaded gun back beneath his jacket.  He picked up the gun with the silencer, nodding to Belle to follow him out.  They made their way swiftly down the corridor to the stairs Gold had first used.  There was shouting elsewhere in the house, but they saw no one, and they slipped through the kitchens and out of the building.  Sticking close to the wall, they walked quickly to the corner, where the sound of voices made them freeze.  Gold pressed himself against the wall, putting a finger against his lips, and they waited in the darkness as the tread of boots came closer.

“Nothing from the house,” said a man’s voice, his tone grim.  “And I can’t raise any of the other guys.  I don’t like this.  The boss wouldn’t go all radio silence on us.”

“Agreed.  So, do we go in, or what?” asked another.

“I’ll go,” said the first.

Gold shot Belle a look of frustration.  They were coming.  She seemed to read his mind, and nodded, so he pushed away from the wall, his cane digging into the packed earth, and raised the gun.  A man rounded the corner, lean and broad-shouldered, his eyes widening in the brief moment before Gold pulled the trigger and a bullet to the chest knocked him into the dirt.  Gold moved forward with a grim expression on his face, firing at his companion and hitting him in the side of the head as he turned to run.

“That’s both of them,” he said curtly.  “Let’s go!”

He heard Belle trotting behind him, and increased his pace, wanting to get out of the place and back to the car as soon as possible.

“Not much further now,” he said, glancing back.  “We made it, Belle.  You’re safe, sweetheart.”

She beamed at him, a wide, beautiful smile that lit up her face, and it was almost enough to distract him from the movement behind her.  The sight of a lone figure, and the glint of moonlight on the barrel of a gun.  He felt the colour drain from him, time slowing down, as though he were trying to move in air turned thick as treacle.  He tried to reach for her, tried to grab her and pull her behind him, but his limbs had turned to lead, his reactions dull and sluggish.  The harsh sound of a bullet tore at his eardrums, Belle stumbled towards him, and a blossom of red spread outwards from the tiny hole in her chest.


	30. "Where's Your God Now?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @anonymous prompted: Outsider 31 please
> 
> 31: "where's your God now?"

“NO!” shouted Gold, and lunged towards Belle, dropping his cane.  He managed to catch her in his arms before she hit the ground, and landed heavily on his right hip, dust flying up from the earth.  Belle gazed up at him, a look of terror in her eyes.  She tried to speak, something catching in her throat, and a bubble of blood burst on her lips, spraying her mouth with fine scarlet droplets.

“No no no!” he whimpered desperately.  “No, Belle, please!  Please, sweetheart!”

There was a scuffling noise, and a gunshot.  A bullet whined past him and struck the wall behind, and Gold’s face twisted in rage as he levelled his gun and fired at the shadowed doorway.  There was a shriek of pain, and the thump of a body hitting the floor.  Another shot cracked off the wall behind him, and he turned at the flash of movement beside the Bentley.  He fired twice, hearing a muffled scream.  The gun was out of ammo, and he dug beneath his coat for the other, fury coursing through him. 

“Oh God, my leg!”  A man’s voice, high with pain and fear.  “You - you shot my fucking leg!  Oh God, I’m - I’m bleeding!  Oh God, oh please God!”

The man began praying, asking for divine help over and over, and Gold scowled.  He laid Belle gently on the ground, pushing himself up with his cane and striding towards the car.  The man cowered on the ground, blood turning his jeans dark and wet, the beads of a rosary wound around his hands and his lips moving in silent prayer.  His features were twisted in pain, and he looked up at Gold with a light of panic in his eyes.  Gold raised the gun, staring down the length of the barrel into eyes filled with disbelief.  With terror.

“Where’s your God now?” he asked quietly, and shot him in the head without blinking, the sound echoing around the compound.

He was aware that the noise would draw any others, that it was past time to be gone.  The man was wearing a cotton shirt, so he stripped it from the body with rough tugs.  Belle’s wound needed pressure if he was to get her to a hospital alive.  He kept an eye out for any more of Maurice’s men, but there was no sign of anyone else around as he limped back to Belle, his heart thumping with fear.  She was deathly pale, shaking with the shock of pain and blood loss, and he bent to scoop her up with one arm, cursing his ruined ankle.

“Here, sweetheart,” he said gently.  “It’s gonna be okay, I promise.  I’m gonna get you to a hospital, but I need you to do something, alright?”

She nodded, her body trembling, and he pulled off her jacket, noting the wounds where the bullet had entered her shoulder and exited just above her right breast.  Her shirt was soaked with blood, and he tried not to panic at the sight of it.  He rolled the shirt up tight, leaving the sleeves loose, and pressed the roll of cotton against the wounds, binding the sleeves around her as tightly as he could.

“I need you to press down,” he said.  “Can you do that?  Put your hand there and just keep pressing it, my darling.”

Belle nodded, but her eyes were glazed, and she was shivering, her breath coming in pants.  He wanted to scream in rage and fear, but he sent her a smile, trying to reassure her.  He picked her up, difficult as it was with his cane, and dragged her to the Bentley, opening up the passenger door.  Strapping her in, he rushed around to the driver’s side and hurriedly hot-wired the thing.  The engine roared to life, settling into a steady purr, and Gold floored it, making the tyres squeal as the car burst out of the compound and down the long road towards Phoenix.

He called the nearest hospital with an emergency room, informing them that he was bringing in a patient with a gunshot wound to the chest, and snapping that he could get there quicker than they could send an ambulance.  Nevertheless, the journey seemed to take too long, and he talked to Belle all the way, reassuring her that he was there, squeezing her hand.  The blood was drying on his fingers, sticky and loathsome.

“We’ll get you all patched up,” he said easily.  “It won’t take long, you’ll see.  And then we can go home.  You’d like that, wouldn’t you?  Back to Storybrooke?”

Belle didn’t answer, her breathing rapid and shallow, and his fingers tightened on her hand.  It was deathly cold, and he tried not to let panic enter his voice.

“You can keep your room, if you like,” he went on, realising he was babbling.  “You don’t have to move into mine.  We can work at the shop together.  And we can have breakfast at Granny’s, and picnics at the cabin on weekends.”

Belle was silent, and he blinked back tears, eyes searching ahead as they entered the city.  The hospital had to be nearby.

“I never thought…” he whispered, his voice breaking.  “After what happened - I never thought I could care about someone again.  I never thought I’d love again…”  He squeezed her hand, the delicate bones feeling like rods of ice.  “You wanted to hear my story, remember?  I can tell you, when you’re better.  When we get home, I’ll tell you everything.”

Belle’s head rolled to the side, her eyes closed, and he felt a surge of terror.

“Oh, please stay with me sweetheart!” he said desperately.  “Please, my beautiful Belle, please don’t leave me!  I promised I’d keep you safe, please don’t go!”

Tears were stinging his eyes, and the road ahead swam in his vision, lights blurring.  He blinked rapidly, jerking the wheel to avoid another vehicle.  The hospital was up ahead, and he swung the Bentley into one of the parking bays, scrambling out.  Medics were waiting, a gurney all ready, and he stood by helplessly as they picked Belle up out of the car and laid her down, wheeling her into the hospital at a run.


	31. "Are You Drunk?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous prompted: "Oooooo 1 or 37 or 38 for the Outsider"
> 
> 1: Are you drunk?

Seventeen paces.

The waiting area was seventeen paces across, and he had traversed it more times than he could count, his cane tapping against the spotless floor, the hospital tannoy a grating sound in his ears as doctors were called to this room or that.  He had no concept of how long he had been waiting, wired on fear and adrenaline, his mind playing the incident over and over again.  Perhaps this would be his fate, his personal hell.  To relive the moment of his failure, to see her taken from him time and again, her blood on his hands, the light leaving her eyes.

His hands were still stained with her blood, dark reddish-brown patches dried on his skin.  He knew he should wash it off, but couldn’t bring himself to go to the bathroom and do it, as though by that gesture he would be washing his hands of her, leaving her fate to capricious gods who laughed at his pain.

They had told him nothing.  Hospital staff hurried past, the relatives of other patients slumped in the plastic chairs, drinking endless cups of coffee from the machine.  He spoke to one member of staff only, a severe-looking receptionist who looked as though she suspected him of plotting a raid on the hospital supplies.

“Fill this out,” she snapped, handing him a clipboard with a form attached.  “In full, mind.  And we’ll need your insurance details.”

“Of course,” he said dryly, too heartsick and worried to comment on her lack of sympathy.

“Gunshot wound, right?” she said, unmoved.

“Was it the gaping wound in her chest that gave it away?” he asked sardonically, and she shook her head.

“I don’t understand girls today…” she mused.  “She in a gang, or something?”

“Are you drunk?” he snapped.  “She’s an innocent fucking victim!”

“Well, excuse me, I’m sure!” said the woman, with a sniff.  “You have to understand the type we usually get in here with GSWs.  After midnight it’s nothing but pimps, whores and drug dealers.”

She cut off then, her lips pursing as though she had bitten something sour, and slowly looked Gold up and down.  His fingers clenched on the edge of the clipboard, the paper form wrinkling beneath his thumbs, but before he could make a scathing remark she had moved on to deal with the next patient, and so he was reduced to glowering at her as he wrote.

She called the police about the gunshot wound, of course, which meant that some of his time was taken up in telling two officers a series of lies about how he and Belle had come to be in the situation they were in.  He wasn’t sure that the police officers entirely bought the tale of a road-trip across the US and a robbery by armed men in the desert outside town, but he was an accomplished liar when he wanted to be, and they merely nodded and asked a few questions, taking copious notes.  Gold didn’t have to pretend to ramble desperately when it came to talking about a struggle for the gun, and Belle being shot.  The police officers seemed more sympathetic after that, and Gold gave them a detailed description of two of Maurice’s men as the supposed assailants.  By the time they worked out who it was and traced attackers to the compound and its bloody secrets, he was hoping that he and Belle would be long gone.

It was approaching three in the morning when a tired-looking doctor with a shock of blond hair threaded his way towards him, stripping off a pair of gloves.

“Mr - Gold?” he asked uncertainly, and Gold nodded impatiently.  “I’m Doctor Whale.  She’s out of the woods.  Probably.”

Gold let out a sigh of relief, wanting to cry, and Doctor Whale kept going.

“The bullet went straight through at the top of her chest, so she has a collapsed lung,” he said.  “There’s fairly extensive damage to the surrounding tissue, and the bullet punctured her shoulder blade and cracked a rib.  We’ve patched her up, but you need to appreciate that she lost a lot of blood, and there’ll be some scarring.  It’s likely that she’ll have restricted movement in her shoulder for a while, and I would suggest no exertion and no lifting anything for a few weeks at least.”

Gold nodded, still pacing.  The words ran over him like dark waters, wanting to pull him under and drown him.

“In a way she’s lucky,” said Whale.  “The wound was pretty clean, just a few chips of bone in there, and like I said the bullet had passed through.  She’s gonna be very sore, though.  We’ll give her some pain relief when she wakes up.  Do you know if she’s allergic to anything?”

“I - no,” said Gold, wishing he knew more about her, and feeling helpless.  “She’s never mentioned any allergies to me.”

The doctor nodded, rubbing an eye.

“She’ll be out of it for a while, I expect,” he continued.  “She’d lost consciousness when you brought her in, and obviously we needed to anaesthetise her before surgery.  There’s the matter of insurance…”

“Yes yes,” said Gold impatiently.  “She’s covered, I gave the details to the Rottweiler you have on reception.  Can I see her?”

Whale folded his arms, cocking an eyebrow.

“She your daughter?”

“No, she most certainly is not!”  Gold glared at him.  “Her father just tried to kill her, weren’t you paying attention?”

“I - just…”  Doctor Whale opened and closed his mouth, and Gold waved a hand.

“Apologies,” he said wearily.  “You weren’t to know.  It’s been a long night.  Can I see her?”

Doctor Whale’s throat bobbed.

“It’s - family only,” he ventured, and Gold looked at him steadily.

“She’s my wife,” he said coldly, and the doctor started.

“Right, right,” he said, his expression awkward.  “Right…  Well, if you’d like to follow me?”

Gold followed him back down the corridor, his cane tapping on the polished floor, feeling desperately tired.

Belle had been moved from the operating theatre to a bed in a small room, and his heart ached to see her, dark hair spread out on the pillows, a yellow hospital gown covering her up to the neck.  He could see the dressings around her shoulder and chest, peeking out from beneath the gown.  There was an IV in the back of her hand, and a heart monitor bleeping beside the bed, the steady thump of Belle’s pulse shown as a jagged line on the screen.  She looked pale and fragile, and younger than ever.  It made him feel old and brittle.  He reached out to touch her cheek, stroking her smooth skin with a finger, blinking back tears.

“She could be out for hours,” said Whale.  “We could call you, if you need to go.”

“Oh, I’m not going anywhere,” said Gold, his voice soft.  “Thank you, doctor.”

He lowered himself into the chair by her bed, folding his fingers over the handle of his cane, and settled back to wait, as though Belle were a princess under a sleeping curse, and he her dark guardian.


	32. "Can You Just Shut Up For Five Minutes?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @quinninthenorth prompted: 37 'can you just shut up for five minutes?' for Outsider

Gold could sense when Belle was waking up.  He had been seated by her bed for what felt like hours, leaving only to use the bathroom or fetch another cup of the revolting coffee.  She had lain motionless all that time, the heart monitor beeping away to the side.  The first hints that she was stirring came with a parting of lips, a slight hitch to her breathing, and a flicker of movement beneath her eyelids.  Gold gently pressed her fingers with his, and her lashes fluttered, her eyes opening.  He let out a breath, pressing her hand to his lips, and she gazed at him, confused and sleepy.

“Belle,” he almost wept.  “Oh, Belle!”

She licked her lips, blinking again.

“Where…” she asked, and he kissed her hand again.

“You’re in hospital,” he said.  “You were shot, do you remember?”

“Shot…”  She swallowed hard.  “Yes.  What happened?”

She tried to move, and her face twisted with pain.

“Shit!” she gasped.

“Stay still,” he said urgently.  “Let me fetch the doctor.  He can give you some pain relief, and we can see about getting you out of here, okay?”

She nodded, panting a little with the pain as she settled back.  Gold pushed himself to his feet, stiff from the hours of sitting there, and strode from the room.

After asking a few of the staff, it turned out that Dr Whale had gone home, which Gold supposed wasn’t unreasonable.  Instead a short, mousy-haired, nervous-looking man called Jekyll attended Belle, asked her a few questions about allergies and administered some pain relief.  Gold watched anxiously as the medication started to take effect, and she sent him a relieved, tired smile.

“I want to take her home,” said Gold quietly, and Jekyll blinked at him.

“Oh no!” he said.  “No, no, no!  She can’t leave for at least another day or two!”

“That’s unacceptable,” said Gold, his tone flat.  “There are hospitals in Maine, surely she can be transferred there?”

Jekyll raised his chin to meet Gold’s cold stare, although his lip wobbled.

“Your wife has suffered a gunshot wound to the chest, a collapsed lung and severe blood loss, from which it will take her weeks to fully recover,” he said sternly.  “If you decide to move her to Maine, against my _express_ advice, I won’t be held responsible!”

Gold sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, but nodded.

“Very well,” he said quietly.  “Give her whatever she needs, Doctor.”

Jekyll sniffed, turning back to Belle.

“I’ll be along to check on you later, Mrs Gold,” he said.  “You just relax, now.”

Belle had wrinkled her brows at his words, but nodded, and he scurried out, white coat flapping.  She gave Gold a wry look.

“Mrs Gold?” she asked, and he sat down beside her again.

“It’s family only,” he explained.  “It was the only way they’d let me in here.  I’m sorry, I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Oh, it’s okay, I like it,” she said, blushing a little, and he grinned at her.

“Well, I’ll have to remember that,” he said.

“Has - has anything been said about what happened?” she asked, and he shrugged.

“I don’t know.  The police came.  I gave them some bullshit about a robbery on the road, but they’ll be back at some point, I expect.”

“Which is why you wanted me out of here,” she sighed, and he shook his head.

“No matter.  I can deal with them.  You just concentrate on getting better.”

Belle smiled, reaching up to cup his cheek.

“You look tired,” she said, thumb stroking over his stubble.  “And you need to shave.  Why don’t you go and get some sleep?  Find a hotel.  You heard the doctor, I’ll be in here another day or two.  You can’t stay awake all that time.”

“Oh, you think so?” he said wryly, and she gave him a knowing look.

“Okay, but I’m telling you you’re not _allowed_ to stay awake all that time,” she said severely.  “You need to be rested to deal with the police, if they come back.”

“They’re idiots,” he said dismissively.  “But you’re right, I suppose.”

“Good.  Now kiss me.”

He bent to press his lips against hers, a gentle kiss, and pulled back.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he promised, and she smiled and nodded.

* * *

He didn’t find a hotel straight away, but instead drove the Bentley out to where he and Belle had previously parked the car, near Maurice’s complex.  As he had suspected, there were police vehicles outside, parked to block any vehicles from leaving.  Gold spotted at least six officers, which meant there were probably more inside.  They would be wanting to question him again, no doubt.  Mouth twisting in irritation, he left the Bentley out of sight, got back into the Cadillac, and turned the car around to head back into Phoenix.

He found a decent hotel near the hospital, and showered and shaved.  It felt good to finally scrub the blood and dirt from himself, and he stood in the shower for a long time.  Afterwards he wrapped a towel around his waist and sat on the edge of the bed, taking out his phone to call Jefferson.

“Oh thank God you’re alive!” were the first words out of his mouth, almost before Gold had a chance to say hello.  “Have you _seen_ the news?  It’s everywhere!  The police have raided this place out near Phoenix, and they’re saying there was a massacre!  I thought it must be _you_!”

“It _was_ me,” said Gold dryly.  “But…”

“But I called Ella and she said that if anyone could make it out of a certain death trap it’d be you and so I was hoping you’d call.  Did the device work?”

“Yes,” said Gold.  “It was…”

“Oh, thank God!  I mean not that I thought it wouldn’t, I know how good I am, but…”

“Could you just shut up for five minutes?” snapped Gold.  “Belle’s been shot!”

There was silence for a moment.

“Bluebell?” said Jefferson worriedly.  “Is - is she gonna be okay?”

“Yes,” sighed Gold.  “I think so.  She was shot in the chest, but the doctor says she can leave in a couple of days.  Did Ella say anything about the passport and ID I asked for?”

“ID’s ready,” said Jefferson promptly.  “Passport’ll take a little longer.”

“Fine.  Tell her to hold onto them.  What about the evidence?”

“All over the news,” he said proudly.  “There are calls for a full investigation.  There are politicians trying to calm everything down and say there’s no proof of anything, but the internet makes these things take on a life of their own.”

“Good,” said Gold, rubbing an eye tiredly.  “That’s good.”

“So you’ll be back in a few days?” asked Jefferson.

“Perhaps.  We’ll leave as soon as we can.  I’ll be in touch.”

“Okay,” said Jefferson.  “Give her my love.”

“I will.”

Gold hung up, rubbing his hands over his face.  A few hours sleep.  That was all he needed.

* * *

Five hours later he was dressed and on his way back to the hospital, feeling refreshed.  He stopped to pick up some cupcakes on the way, thinking that Belle would enjoy them, and a large bouquet of roses, the same blood red as the shirt he wore.  Box of cakes tucked under his arm, he made his way through the hospital corridors to Belle’s room, and hesitated only briefly when he saw a man and woman in plain suits standing outside.  Feds.  Pretending he hadn’t noticed them, he made to enter the room.

“Mr Gold, is it?” asked one of them, a lean man with blue eyes and stubble that was too even to be anything but intentional.  Gold gave him a tiny smile.

“That’s right.”

The man showed his badge.

“I’m Agent Humbert,” he said, and gestured to the other, a small woman with a shiny black ponytail who was looking at him coldly.  “This is Agent Fa.  FBI.  Might we have a word?”

“Is this about my wife?” asked Gold, gesturing with the bunch of roses.  “I was about to take these to her.”

“Yes, it’s about that,” said Agent Fa.  “Give her the flowers, by all means.  We’ll wait.”

Gold’s smile widened, and he nodded, pushing open the door and going inside.  Belle looked up with a smile as he entered.

“Oh, you look much better!” she said.  “Are those for me?  They’re beautiful!”

Gold placed the roses in front of her, and she lifted them up to breathe in their scent.  He placed the box of cupcakes on her lap.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, and she pulled a face.

“A bit woozy,” she admitted.  “But the meds help with the pain, so I guess it’s a fair trade.”

“I’ll get you home as soon as I can,” he promised, and she nodded, her face suddenly serious.

“Good,” she said.  “Because I think we have a lot to talk about, and I don’t want to do it here.”

“Agreed,” he said heavily, and glanced at the door.  “The FBI are here.  They want to question me.  Have they spoken to you?”

Belle shook her head.

“Not yet.  They wanted to, but Dr Jekyll shooed them out like he was herding chickens.”

Gold grunted in amusement.

“Remind me to thank him,” he said dryly.  “I should go.  I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

He bent to kiss her, her mouth warm and sweet, and pressed his forehead to hers.

“Stay safe,” she whispered, and he smiled at her with as much reassurance as he could.

Outside the room, he straightened his tie, and nodded to Agents Humbert and Fa.

“Very well,” he said mildly.  “Shall we?”


	33. "It Sounds Like You're Trying To Convince Yourself" #2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @tinuviel-undomiel prompted: Outsiders prompts 49

Gold sat quietly in Agent Humbert’s car, his hands folded in his lap as they made their way up North Street to the low, sprawling building that made up the FBI’s offices.  A large cactus appeared to stand sentinel by the sign, and Gold eyed it as he walked behind Agent Fa, his leg a little stiff.  They hadn’t arrested him, but their involvement meant that they had found the complex.  And the bodies.

Once inside, he was taken to a small, windowless room and offered some water, which he accepted.  There was a small pile of files on the table, but they remained closed, and he couldn’t see what was written on them.  Agent Humbert took some brief details from him, and asked for his explanation of what had happened leading up to Belle being shot.  Gold gave him the same story that he had given the police, dividing his attention between the two agents.  Humbert nodded along as he took notes, but Fa sat staring at him, her dark eyes narrowed.  He got the impression she didn’t believe a word he was saying.

“We found the man that attacked you,” she said, when he was done.

“Have you arrested him?” asked Gold.

“Wouldn’t be much use,” she said flatly.  “He’s dead.  One shot to the skull.”

“Oh.”  Gold looked down at his glass of water, turning it around on the table top with his fingertips.  “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised.  Violence begets violence.”

“Indeed it does,” said Humbert, watching him closely.

“Perhaps there was a disagreement with his miscreant partner,” added Gold.  “I’ll shed no tears for him.”

“His miscreant partner’s dead too,” said Fa.  “Along with a dozen others.  And the boss of an organised crime network that we’ve had on our radar for some time.  Could never make anything stick.  Somehow, there was always a problem with the evidence.”

“Really?”  Gold shrugged.  “Well, it sounds as though Belle and I had a lucky escape, if those were the men that attacked us.”

“Yeah, here’s the thing,” said Fa dryly.  “These guys aren’t known for attacking tourists at gunpoint.  They’re more the drug and human trafficking breed of villain.”

Gold pulled a face.  “Well, I guess we were in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Perhaps they were desperate.”

“You say your wife’s name is Belle?” said Humbert.  “What was her maiden name?”

“French,” said Gold.

“You got some I.D. for her?”

“Not on me, no,” he said coolly.  “Are you suggesting my wife is in some way to blame for the attack on her?”

“Oh, not at all,” said Fa.  “It’s just that the mob boss we mentioned was Maurice Marchland.  Apparently he had a daughter named Belle.  Would be around her age.”

Gold smiled briefly.  “What a coincidence.”

“I guess, if the daughter of a crime lord wanted to get away from that life and make a fresh start, she’d take a lot of secrets with her,” she added.  “Secrets worth killing her over, maybe?”

“Are you looking for me to hypothesise with you about this man’s feelings towards his daughter?” he asked, lifting a hand and spreading his fingers, and Fa shrugged.

“We’re just talking.”

“Seems to me you’re speculating.”

“I have a bunch of dead bodies and no explanation, it’s what I do.”

Her eyes glittered, heavy with suspicion, and he met her gaze with a tiny smile, a fingertip running slowly around the rim of his glass.

“Belle has never hurt a living soul in her life,” he said.  “She’s an innocent victim of a brutal attack.  If the men that are responsible for her being in the hospital are now dead, I won’t lose any sleep over it.  And if those same men were involved in organised crime, I would have thought you’d be delighted that they are no longer a problem.”

“We don’t like loose ends,” said Humbert and Gold shrugged.

“Then I’m very sorry,” he said.  “But I fail to see what this has to do with me.”

“Kinda young for you, isn’t she?” said Fa, and he raised an eyebrow.

“That sounds terribly judgemental, Agent, if you don’t mind my saying so.  Some women prefer a little experience.  I assure you that she’s satisfied with her choice in _every_ way.”

He let his smile grow lascivious, and her jaw clenched.

“What do you do, Mr Gold?” asked Humbert.  “What’s your line of business?”

“Property management,” he said easily.  “I own a number of properties in Storybrooke, a small town in Maine.  I also run an antiques shop.”

“Maine, you say?” said Humbert, raising an eyebrow.  “Interesting.”

Fa opened up one of the files and pulled out two photographs, slapping them on the table in front of him.  Gold eyed them calmly.  He recognised Jones and Nott immediately, both gazing at the camera with smug expressions, two men who knew that whatever they had been arrested for, they wouldn’t suffer for it.  He wondered exactly how high in the FBI Marchland had reached.

“You know these two men?” she asked, and Gold shook his head.

“No, and by the look of them I wouldn’t want to.”

“They work for Marchland as hitmen,” she said.  “Two men whom we suspect have a history of being used to assassinate Marchland’s rivals and anyone he thinks has betrayed him.”

“Well, they sound lovely,” he said dryly.  “What exactly do they have to do with me?”

“They were seen in Maine earlier this month,” she said.  “Why would they be there, so far from Phoenix, do you think?”

“How should I know?”  Gold looked at her steadily.  “Perhaps they like lobster.”

“They didn’t return, as far as we know,” said Humbert, ignoring Fa’s hiss of irritation.  “Unusual for two hitmen to lay low for this long.  I’d expected to find them at the compound.”

“Then perhaps they’re the ones that did the shooting,” suggested Gold.

“Or maybe they never left Maine,” said Fa.  “Maybe they found their target, and she had someone protecting her.”

Gold showed his teeth.

“Well, that again would be speculation, wouldn’t it?”

“Look,” said Fa, leaning on the table.  “We’re on your side here.”

“Really?”  Gold raised an eyebrow.  “What side would that be?”

“We understand if you couldn’t let anyone threaten your wife,” she said.  “Desperate people can do desperate things to protect their family.”

Gold’s smile widened, and he sat back a little, his eyes fixed on hers.

“I’m not sure what you’re suggesting, dearie,” he said mildly.  “But I am simply a shop owner.  A landlord.  A purveyor of hard to find objects.”

“Is that all?” she said.  “Because it sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself.”

“Well, I have a business card here, somewhere,” he said, patting his pockets.

“That won’t be necessary,” she said dryly.

“You have a permit to carry, right Mr Gold?” said Humbert, and Gold took a sip of water.

“The way you ask that question makes me think you’re already well aware of that,” he said.  “And therefore you know that any weapons I own are held perfectly legally.”

“So if we were to test any of those weapons, would we find that they’ve been fired recently?”

“I like to practice,” he said, the corner of his mouth pulling upwards.

A sharp tap at the door made them look around, and a short man in a suit bent to whisper in Fa’s ear.  She flicked her eyes at Gold, then nodded.

“If you could just wait here, Mr Gold,” she said.  “Something’s come up.”

“Well, I’d rather like to get back to my wife, if it’s all the same to you,” he remarked, and she nodded.

“This should only take fifteen minutes or so,” she said.

“Very well,” he said carelessly, and she and Humbert pushed back their chairs, scooping up the files and taking them out.

Gold waited, running through the events at the complex in his mind.  The only snag that he could see was the security system.  Belle had hacked into it to hide his presence when he entered, and so there should be no evidence on tape for the first kills he had made.  However, he had no idea how long Jefferson’s device had continued to work after she had been captured.  It was entirely possible that they had footage of the minor gun battle outside, and of Belle being shot.  Which would blow holes in his story a mile wide.  He took another sip of water, his face a picture of calm.  He had been in tougher situations than this.

* * *

Fa was almost triumphant when she and Humbert entered the room again, a laptop open in her hands.

“You should find this interesting, Mr Gold,” she said, setting it on the table.  “We certainly did.  Of course it makes you out to be a liar, but I suspected as much.  Always good to get the evidence though, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Perhaps,” said Gold evenly.  “Although you did just tell me that your people find it difficult to make evidence stick.  I wouldn’t get too excited if I were you.”

She shot him a look, but clicked some buttons on the keyboard.

“We managed to get into Marchland’s security system,” she said.  “For some reason it was looping at the start, but later on there’s this.”

She stood back, and Gold watched impassively as the footage showed he and Belle leaving the house, and the moment he had fired on two of Maurice’s men.  It showed Belle getting shot, and him striding across and killing her assailant with one bullet to the skull before tending to Belle and bundling her into the car.  Fa paused the footage, and turned to Gold with a satisfied look on her face.

“A shopkeeper, huh?” she said with derision, and he shrugged.

“Opening hours are eight-thirty until six,” he said.  “Parking validation with every purchase.  You should stop by some time, if you’re ever in Maine.”

“We just saw you kill three men in cold blood,” said Humbert.  “That’s enough to get you put away for life, Mr Gold.  I doubt you’ll be seeing Maine for some time.”

“Unless, of course, you help us,” added Fa.  “You must have been part of Marchland’s circle to get so close to him.  We need to know his dealings.  Who he talked to, his contacts, his network.  Who he has on the payroll.”

“Ah.”  He raised a brow.  “You mean which of your FBI colleagues is being paid to make evidence disappear?  I suspect the answer is well beyond your pay grade, Agent Fa.”

“Maybe,” she agreed.  “But we’re trying to put an end to it.  Marchland wasn’t the only criminal with his people in the Bureau.”

“And exactly how long do you think I’d live if it were known I’d released that information to you following my arrest?” asked Gold dryly.  “I take it you _are_ going to arrest me?”

“We can protect you,” she insisted.  “But only if you help us.”

He smiled thinly.

“I need to make a phone call,” he said.  “I need flowers for my wife.”

“ _That’s_ your priority right now?” demanded Humbert, and he shrugged.

“Well, we’re newlyweds,” he said.  “And I’m a romantic at heart.”

“Go ahead,” said Fa suspiciously.  “But we’re staying here.”

Gold fished out his phone, and the two agents sat still, watching him.  He shrugged, dialling a number, and put the phone to his ear as it rang.  There was a click on the line as it connected.

“Game of Thorns,” said a cool female voice.  The accent was distinctly English.  The voice wasn’t one he recognised, but that didn’t mean anything.  The greeting was correct.

“It’s been some time since I placed an order with you,” he said.  “I’d like a large bunch of purple gladioli bound with gold ribbon.”

There was a pause at the other end of the line.

“Where would you like those delivered, sir?” asked the woman.

“Phoenix,” said Gold.  “Do you need the address?”

“Thank you, we have your details on our system,” she said.  “I’ll get your order processed as soon as possible.”

“Thank you,” he drawled, and put the phone down on the table.  He flashed Humbert and Fa a grin.  “May I have a coffee?  I need to think over what you’ve said.”


	34. "It's Not Like I Missed You Or Anything"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> betweenpaperpages said:
> 
> Outsider: 34. “It’s not like I missed you or anything.” (Jefferson to Gold) Because we all know Jeff is a snarky man.
> 
> I had some questions about the symbolism of the flowers in the last chapter.  There are a number of meanings for gladioli.  As the name suggests they were the flowers of the gladiators, and the meanings I focused on for this fic were loyalty, honor and remembrance.

Agent Humbert brought Gold a coffee, and although it was tasteless sludge, it gave him something to do while he pretended to think over their offer of protection for evidence.  It took perhaps ten minutes before there was a knock at the door, and a grim-looking man with a bald head and the air of someone higher up the pay scale than the two agents looked in.

“Agent Fa,  Agent Humbert?” he said.  “A word?”

Fa shot Gold a look, and he let his mouth curve upwards a little.  Her eyes narrowed, and she pushed back from the table.

“Excuse us a moment.”

“Take your time,” he said lazily, and took another sip of the dreadful coffee.

Through the closed door he couldn’t hear their conversation beyond a low murmur, but his smile widened when Agent Fa raised her voice in fury.

“Are you fucking _kidding_ me?” she demanded.  “What the _hell_?”

There was a muffled comment from Humbert.

“No I will _not_ calm the fuck down!” she shouted.  “I don’t _believe_ this!  Who the hell has this kind of power?  Who the hell are we protecting here?”

There was more murmuring, this time from the bald man, Gold suspected.

“Alright, _fine_!”

The door was wrenched open, and Fa stomped back in with a face like thunder, leaning on the table and glaring at Gold.

“What did you do?” she demanded.  “What the _hell_ did you _do_?”

“Whatever do you mean, dearie?” he asked in a sly voice, and her mouth worked.

“I’ve been trying to get to the bottom of the corruption in this place for _years_!” she shouted.  “And just when I think I’m getting somewhere, just when we actually bag someone who can give us answers...”

“Fa,” said Humbert calmly.  “This isn’t helping.”

“You really should take a breath,” suggested Gold, his tone mild.  “I understand that disappointment can take its toll, but you know what they say.  One door closes…”

She shot him a venomous look.

“How does that one end, again?” he mused, tapping a finger against his lips.  “Is it ‘one door closes, another one slams in your face’?  That doesn’t sound right…”

“Mr Gold, you’re free to go,” said Agent Humbert coldly, and Gold’s smile widened.

“”Why, thank you, Agent,” he purred.  “Though I must say it’s been a pleasure to help you with your enquiries.”

“Oh, just get out!” snapped Fa, and he pushed back his chair, standing up.  She let her head drop, huffing air, the picture of frustration and despair, and he almost felt sorry for her.

“Don’t worry, Agent,” he said calmly, straightening the cuffs of his shirt.  “I’m sure something will turn up.”

She ignored him, and he gave her a tiny bow and sauntered out, that tiny grin still on his face.

* * *

The smile slipped when he got outside, and his tread felt heavy as he walked to the nearest coffee shop, his expression grim.  He had hoped to live the rest of his life without having to make that phonecall.  He wondered how long it would be before they made contact.  Everything came with a price, after all.

He ordered a coffee, and sat at a table by the window to drink it.  After a minute or two, he fished the phone from his pocket again to call Jefferson.

“I need you to do me a favour,” he said, after Jefferson had finished babbling.  “Take the remaining evidence we didn’t release, and send it to Agent Fa, of the FBI.  Phoenix office.”

“The Feds are involved?” said Jefferson, interested.  “You sure she can be trusted not to bury this stuff?”

“I’m sure,” said Gold.  “Make sure there’s nothing on there that can be traced to you, just in case.  Or to me.”

“Understood,” said Jefferson.  “Anything else?”

“I don’t think so.  I’ll let you know when I can take Belle home.”

“You guys are stopping by my place, though, right?”

“Perhaps,” said Gold.  “I need to see Ella, anyway.”

“I mean, it’s not like I missed you or anything, but…”

“Goodbye, Jefferson,” said Gold in a weary voice, and there was a chuckle at the other end before Jefferson hung up.

Gold ran a hand over his face, and took another sip of his coffee.  With any luck, he and Belle would be on their way within a day or two, and they could start to put all this behind them.

* * *

It was three days in total before Doctors Jekyll and Whale were satisfied with Belle’s progress to the extent that they were - if not happy to have her leave - at least content that she was in no danger.

“You’ll be in a lot of pain for some time,” Jekyll warned her.  “I’m prescribing painkillers, but they can be addictive.  Take them only when absolutely necessary.”

“I will,” she promised.  “Thank you, Doctor.”

“No heavy lifting,” Jekyll added.  “No exerting yourself.”

Belle shot Gold a mischievous look.

“I’ll be good,” she said innocently, and he sighed.

“I have no intention of spending any more time in hospitals,” he said sternly.  “So listen to what the doctor tells you.”

“I’ll make you do all the work then,” she said, with a wicked smile, and he sighed again.

“You can take her home, Mr Gold,” said Jekyll then.  “Look after yourself, Belle.”

He bustled out, and Belle grinned at Gold.

“Can we go now?” she asked.  “I could do with some decent food and a good night’s sleep.  This place is noisy as hell.”

He bent to kiss her, enjoying the feel of her lips against his.

“Let’s get out of here,” he murmured, and she reached up to slide her fingers through his hair, kissing him again.

“We can find a motel on the way,” she whispered.  “I’ve missed being in bed with you.”

Gold teased her tongue with his before kissing her nose.

“You heard the doctor,” he said softly.  “No exertion.”

“Like I said.”  She pressed her lips to his.  “I’ll make you do all the work.”


	35. "Why Does Anyone Have To Be Naked?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's been a while since I updated this, due to other fics and events taking precedence, but I'm determined to finish it this month
> 
> @nirvigedearie prompted: "Outsider prompt: why does anyone have to be naked?"
> 
> This was prompt #50 on the list!

They drove north-east, the setting sun at their backs, and kept going until night fell.  Belle had slept most of the way, but pain in her shoulder woke her as the car ran over a bump while turning into a motel parking lot.  She blinked sleepily, letting her head fall to the side as she looked at Gold.  He parked up, turning to her with a small grin.

“Ah, you’re awake.”

“Sorry.”  She yawned, pressing a hand to her mouth.  “These painkillers are a little _too_ good.”

“You should have another before you go to sleep,” he said.  “Are you hungry?”

“A little.”  She stretched and yawned again.  “Can we just get a pizza or something?  I don’t think I can cope with anything more complicated.”

“Let’s check in, and I’ll get us one,” he promised.

“Hmm.”  She let her head rest against his shoulder for a moment.  “I’d rather you got naked first.”

“That would make the purchasing of pizza something of an adventure,” he said dryly, and she grinned sleepily.

“Okay, then _I’ll_ get naked.”

“Why does _anyone_ have to be naked?” he asked patiently, and grinned as she pouted.

“I’ve been in that hospital for _days_ ,” she complained.  “I’ve barely slept, and you smell good.  I want to curl up with you and let you remind me how good you are with that mouth of yours.”

He looked at her steadily, and she sighed.

“You’re gonna make me wait, aren’t you?” she said.  “I won’t break, you know.”

“It’s not that,” he said quietly.  “I just think we should talk, that’s all.”

Belle sucked in her cheeks, letting her head roll back against the seat a little.  He was still watching her, his gaze calm, but there was a seriousness in his eyes, and she sighed again.

“Fine,” she said.  “I guess I’ve been avoiding the issue, but you’re right.  We should talk.”

“Dinner first,” he added, and opened the car door.

* * *

The motel room was comfortable, and Belle climbed onto the bed, propped up against the pillows.  Gold returned after twenty minutes or so with the pizza, which they ate out of the box, washed down with water, Belle being unable to drink alcohol whilst taking the painkillers.  She watched him as he ate, long fingers pulling apart the strings of mozzarella at the edge of each slice and popping them into his mouth, and she threw the last of her crusts back into the box and licked grease from her fingers.

“You knew my father,” she said, and Gold hesitated only briefly before replying.

“Yes.”

“How?”

Gold dropped his last half-eaten slice of pizza back into the box, and wiped his fingers on a paper napkin.

“I used to work with him,” he said simply, and Belle shook her head.

“I don’t believe you,” she said stubbornly.  “I _know_ you, and you’re nothing like him.”

“Nevertheless, I used to work with him,” said Gold.  “Oh, perhaps not quite in the way he thought, you have me there.”

Belle frowned.  “Look, these painkillers are scrambling my brain as it is.  Stop speaking in riddles!”

Gold sighed, sitting back and running a hand through his hair.

“I used to work undercover,” he said.  “I can’t - I can’t really tell you much, and given the favour I just had to ask to get the FBI off my back, it’s probably best you don’t know.”

“Undercover?”  She wrinkled her brow.  “Like - for the secret services, or something?  Oh!”  Her eyes flew wide open.  “Were you infiltrating organised crime networks?  I had some suspicions that my father had links with terrorist organisations - money and guns in return for drugs - but we couldn’t find concrete proof.  Was it that?  No, you can’t tell me…”

She broke off, chewing her lip.

“Okay, so you were supposed to be some bigshot crime lord,” she said slowly.  “I guessed that much from the way he spoke to you as an equal.  You would have to have commanded as much respect as he did to get that from him.  But there’s no way your intelligence services could set up a network like that, so it was some sort of hostile takeover, right?  A plant?  You replaced the head of a criminal gang.  Maybe you even had some connections to the underworld: informants, or double agents, or even just people you knew as a kid, because I’m guessing you weren’t exactly born with a silver spoon in your mouth.  How am I doing so far?”

Gold was staring at her, and she raised an eyebrow.

“You’re remarkable,” he said eventually.

“But then,” she said, “then you gave it up.  Moved to Storybrooke, which is pretty much the arse-end of nowhere.  What changed?”

Gold took another drink, and ran his tongue around his teeth, sucking his cheeks in before setting down his plastic cup.

“I had a son,” he said.  “He was four when he was taken.”

“Taken?”  Belle shook her head, even as she was digesting the fact that he had a child.  “Who took him?”

Gold’s mouth flattened, and he looked away.

“There was a rival organisation that worked out of Boston,” he said.  “The head of that organisation was called Midas.  Your father would have known him.”

“He never mentioned him, not that I can recall,” she said, and he nodded.

“You were only a small child at the time,” he said.  “He and I had - clashed - for want of a better word, but his position on the East Coast was something my real bosses were very interested in.  He had connections in Europe and Russia.  Networks that had infiltrated the UK.  They wanted me to take him out and disrupt his enterprise.  A hostile takeover, as you say, with their man at the top of it, in charge of a worldwide network of intelligence and resources.  It was - a laudable aim.”

His mouth twisted, and Belle wanted to touch him, to send him comfort.  She was well aware that he had never mentioned a son before, and his use of the past tense to describe him made her dread to think what had happened.

“Bae didn’t know what I did for a living, of course,” he said.  “And he certainly didn’t know my true identity.  While I was doing business, he was cared for by a nanny, Mrs Potts.”

“Um…”  Belle chewed her lip.  “What about his - mother?”

He pulled a face, his expression grim.

“Oh, caring for her child was beneath her,” he said bitterly.  “All she wanted to do was drink, and party, and tell me how bored she was with her life.  I’d have paid her to leave after Bae was born, after I’d seen she had no interest in him, but I couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because she knew who I really was,” he sighed.  “She knew that my life was a sham, and she could have brought the whole operation down with a single word.  I had to keep her close.  It was either that or kill her, and I couldn’t take Bae’s mother from him.”

Belle nodded, and he shrugged uncomfortably.

“She liked dangerous men,” he said, his voice heavy.  “After a while, she decided she’d rather move to Midas’s team than stay with me.  He was very generous to the women in his life.  That was a step too far for the powers that be.”

“They wanted her gone,” said Belle, nodding.  “Did they ask you to do it?”

“That wasn’t the problem,” he said dryly.  “The problem was that she was smart enough to know that she’d signed her own death warrant by leaving, so she took some insurance.”

“Your son.”  Belle put a hand on his, and he nodded.

“Looking back, I should have quit the second she talked about leaving,” he said.  “I should have handed over to another agent and taken Bae and gotten the hell out of there.  But the work we were doing - we were getting incredible results!  We were saving lives, disrupting criminal networks.  It - it was good work!  It _mattered_!”

He was gazing at her, desperation in his eyes, and Belle nodded, squeezing his hand.  He glanced away, heaving a sigh.

“I explained the situation,” he said evenly.  “And they said they’d take care of it.  I should have gone myself, of course, but I was a coward.  I couldn’t bear to let Bae see me kill his mother, if it came to that.  So I stayed in my fucking fortress of an apartment block with the rest of my fucking people and I waited for someone else to do the fucking job I should have done years ago.”

Belle was silent, her heart thumping in her chest, and he swallowed, his jaw tightening.

“They said she used him…”  His voice cut off as he swallowed again.  “They said she used him as a fucking _shield_.  Picked him up as they shot at her.  They never meant to hit him…”

“Oh God…”  She shook her head.  “I’m so sorry!”

“I almost killed the men who came to tell me,” he whispered.  “Don’t remember much of it, but someone pulled me off.  An accident, they said.  Not their fault.  And it wasn’t, I suppose.  It was mine.”

“It was an _accident_ ,” she said gently.

There was silence for a moment, and he looked down at where her hand covered his, her thumb stroking.

“I quit,” he whispered.  “I told them I’d quit, that I’d never go back.  They were very generous with the settlement.  I quit and I moved to Storybrooke, and I started a new life as a landlord and antique dealer, paid for with my own son’s blood.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” she said sadly.  “And it’s over.”

“But it’s not.”  He looked up, fixing her with a steady gaze.  “I called them when I was with the FBI.  Called for a favour so I could get the hell out of there.  Everything comes with a price, Belle.  At some point they’ll cash that favour in.”


	36. "Can I Open My Eyes Yet?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @annagingil prompted: "Outsider 22, 25 or 34 :)"
> 
> 34 has been done and 25 is to come :)
> 
> 22: "can I open my eyes yet?"

****Belle reached up to touch Gold’s face, her palm cupping his cheek.  He looked tired and drawn, and she supposed it was hardly surprising, given the events of the past few days and the conversation they had just had.

“It’s over for now, at least,” she said.  “We can go home and rest, and I can heal.  We’ll worry about the rest if and when they call, okay?”

Gold put his hand over hers, his eyes crinkling in a tired smile, and she leaned forward to kiss him.

“Come to bed,” she whispered.  “I need to be held, and I think you do too.”

She was still very sore, and it was more comfortable to lie propped on the pillows, so he curled by her side with his arm around her waist and his face pressed against her side.  She listened to his even breathing as he drifted towards sleep, and the painkillers helped her to join him.

* * *

Her sleep was disturbed, because she kept trying to turn onto her side, and then the pain would wake her, and so she was tired and grumpy the next morning.  Luckily there was a long drive ahead, and she slept in the car, head lolling against the seat as it sped along.  The journey home to Maine would take around four days; Gold had said that he wasn’t planning on stopping off in New York to see Jefferson and Ella, but would be going straight home, and Belle was glad of it.  Not that she didn’t want to see them, but she was looking forward to getting back to the place she now called home.  Looking forward to getting on with her life, whatever that meant.  Gold still hadn’t done any more than kiss her gently, as though he thought that touching her would somehow hurt her, and the lack of intimacy was starting to get to her.  She was aware that she was still injured, and she supposed it made sense to be careful.  But she missed his touch.

Gold called Mr Dove as they were driving through New York state, asking him to go to the house and stock the fridge.  Belle listened to the conversation with half an ear.

“Yes, I’m bringing her home,” said Gold.  “She’s safe, no worries on that score, but she’ll need some time to heal.”

There was a pause, and he was nodding.

“Get fresh milk and cheese,” he said.  “Some chicken or something.  We’ll be back late, so something easy to make for dinner.  And make sure there’s some wine in the fridge.”

Belle slid a hand across his thigh, enjoying the firm warmth of him.  She could hear the faint noise of Mr Dove talking, and Gold rolled his eyes.

“Don’t go overboard,” he sighed.  “And remind me to introduce you to some eligible women next time we’re in Boston.”

He rang off, and Belle raised an eyebrow.

“What was that about?” she asked sleepily, and Gold glanced at her briefly before turning his eyes back to the road.

“As well as being an excellent enforcer,” he said.  “Dove is also a hopeless romantic.”

* * *

They rolled into Storybrooke at just before nine in the evening, the car pulling to a stop on Gold’s driveway.  He helped her out, supporting himself with his cane on one side, and taking her arm.  Belle rested her head against his shoulder for a moment, breathing in the clean, damp Maine air.  It was very cold, frost already covering the ground, and was pleasant after the dry heat of the desert and the dirty air of the cities they had passed through.  She let out a contented sigh.   _Home at last_.

Gold let them into the house, and Belle noticed that the lights were on, and the house was warm.  Dove, she suspected.  She took off her boots and coat and followed him through to the kitchen, where he was already taking things out of the fridge.  He glanced at her over his shoulder.

“Sit down, I’ll make us something to eat,” he said.

Belle sank into one of the kitchen chairs as he plated up cold roast chicken, cut some bread and prepared a salad.  He opened a bottle of white wine, pouring two glasses, and Belle took a sip as he set the food on the table.  There was a tub of potato salad as well, and a selection of cheeses that he put on a small wooden board.  She was surprised to find how hungry she was, and helped herself to bread and cheese, lifting a piece of chicken breast onto her plate.

“It’s nice to be home,” she said, and he looked up at her, a slow grin spreading across his face.

“Yes,” he said quietly.  “It is.”

* * *

They ate their fill of the food, and drank two glasses of wine, after which Belle felt decidedly woozy, and Gold washed the few dishes and took her hand to help her up the stairs.

“At least tell me I don’t have to sleep in the spare room again,” she grumbled, and he grinned at her as they stepped onto the landing.

“I think it’s safe to say that the only things that will mean we sleep apart will be illness and excessive snoring,” he said.

“Good,” she said.  “Is your bed comfortable enough for an invalid?”

“I checked earlier to make sure it had enough pillows,” he said.  “Close your eyes.”

Belle looked at him suspiciously.  “Why?”

“Please.”

He waited patiently, and after a moment she closed her eyes, feeling him take her hand and guide her into his bedroom.

“Can I open my eyes yet?” she asked.

“Go ahead.”

Belle blinked, her eyes noticing the soft light first of all, and then the colour.  The room was set up as though it were a honeymoon suite, with vases of red roses set on the dresser and nightstands, and red rose petals strewn on the bed.  A box of chocolates was beside one of the vases, and Belle pressed a hand to her mouth, feeling both touched and amused.

“Did you do this?” she asked, and Gold shook his head.

“Dove,” he said dryly.  “I told you.  Hopeless romantic.”

She giggled.

“Remind me to thank him,” she said.  “I think I’ll take a bath before we turn in, though.”

“Oh, he’s been in the bathroom, too,” said Gold, with an air of weariness that she didn’t quite believe.  “Let me run you a bath.  I’m sure he’d like to know you used the products he purchased.”

Belle giggled harder, trotting to the en-suite to find yet more roses in vases and several bottles of floral bath products.  She turned to Gold with a grin as he bent to turn on the water.

“You know, this is the first time I’ve been in your bathroom,” she said coyly.  “That bath looks big enough for two, what do you say?”

* * *

She wasn’t supposed to be getting her dressings wet, so she was unable to relax in the bath as she usually would, but the sight of Gold sitting opposite with rose-scented bubbles up to his chest was amusing enough that she didn’t care.

“This is nice,” she sighed, sliding a leg down next to his.  “I want more times like this.  With fewer bullet wounds getting in the way.”

He grinned.

“I’m hoping that Storybrooke will continue to be as boring as hell,” he said, “just as it was before you came crashing into my life and turned it upside down.”

Belle poked him with her toes.

“Admit it, you had fun.”

“That’s one very inaccurate way to describe it, yes.”

She sighed contentedly, shifting her body in the hot water, and he ran his hands up her legs, stroking her wet skin, his thumbs gently massaging her thighs.

“Small town life, then?” she said.  “Bake sales and weird local festivals and wondering which of the neighbours has a bizarre fetish?”

“It’s Miners’ Day soon,” he said cheerfully.  “There’ll be a bake sale at that, and you can talk to Eric Fisher about his mermaid obsession if you like.”

Belle giggled.

“It’s perfect,” she said.  “Perfect.”


	37. "My Nightmares Are Usually About Losing You"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @still-searching47 said: 'Outsider prompt - 25 “My nightmares are usually about losing you.”'

Belle felt sleepy after their bath, and she pulled on Gold’s discarded shirt, buttoning it as she yawned.  He was already dressed in a pair of loose cotton pants, his chest bare, and she settled down next to him, her eyes sliding shut as he put an arm across her waist.  It was a relief to be home - and she really did consider this her home now, despite her relatively short time living with him.  It had felt so from the first night of her moving in, as though the house welcomed her and wanted to keep her safe, or perhaps that was just the man who lived in it.  And she did feel safe with him, despite the violence of which she knew he was capable.  She felt safe, and loved, and home.

* * *

She was woken by Gold jerking in his sleep, and she reached out groggily with an arm, trying to feel for him in the soft darkness.  He came awake with a sharp intake of breath, pushing himself up on his hands, and she listened to his heavy breathing, her fingers stroking across his shoulder in a rhythmic, soothing motion.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

There was a little moonlight filtering through the curtains, enough to highlight his cheekbones and the sweep of his nose and pick out the lines of his body with a soft bluish glow.  His hair hung soft around his face, and he swept it back with a hand, his breathing steadying.

“Nightmare,” he said.

“Oh.”  She let her hand slide up to his head, combing his hair with her fingers, and Gold made a contented noise, letting his head roll back.  “Well, that’s to be expected, I guess.  Do you want to talk about it?”

“Just my own fears taking over,” he sighed.  “A re-run of the night at your father’s compound, only this time I wasn’t quick enough, or clever enough, or lucky enough to save you.”

Belle leaned in to kiss his shoulder, his skin cool against her lips.

“They’ll pass,” she said quietly.  “The nightmares will pass.”

“Perhaps.”  His voice was soft.  “Perhaps not.  I suppose it’s little enough, considering what I’ve done in my life.”

“Do you dream of it often?” she asked.  “The past, I mean.  Your - work.”

Gold let out a heavy sigh, and turned his head to face her.

“Bae’s last moments are what my nightmares are usually about,” he said.  “Losing you - well, it looks as though that particular fear will be lurking in my subconscious from now on.  Perhaps they’ll make up a tag team just to fuck with me.”

He gave her a weary smile, and Belle pressed a hand to his cheek, her thumb stroking over his skin.

“Kiss me,” she whispered.  “It’s been a - a terrible couple of weeks, and I need you.”

He pressed his lips to her fingertips.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said softly.  “You’re still injured.”

She ducked her head to brush her lips against his.

“Then you’ll have to be gentle,” she breathed.

She kissed him again, her fingers sliding into his hair, and Gold opened his mouth, his tongue touching hers, one hand dropping to her thigh as the other brushed her hair back from her face.  He gently laid her back down, deepening the kiss, and his hand slid up over her waist to cup her breast through the shirt.  Belle moaned a little, pushing against his hand, his tongue stroking against hers.  She could feel his fingers tugging at the buttons of the shirt, the faint chill of air on her skin as he opened it up, and then the heat of his hand against her again.  His mouth pulled from hers, kissing down her neck, and Belle let out a tiny noise of pleasure as his lips fastened around her nipple, his tongue scraping against her.

She sighed happily as his hair brushed against her skin, and Gold began kissing his way down over her belly, pushing apart the sides of the shirt.  Belle could feel her breath catch as his tongue stroked along the crease at the top of her thigh, and he settled himself between her legs, his hands sliding up to curl around her hips.  She gasped as his tongue flickered out to taste her, and he let out a groan of pleasure, a low rumbling sound that made her abdomen clench.  Her head rolled back on the pillows, one hand dropping to comb through his hair as he licked at her.  She arched her back a little, trying to ignore the dull pain in her shoulder, and he swirled his tongue over her wet flesh, rubbing the flat of it over her clit, his breath hot against her tender skin.

Belle moaned at the feel of him, his tongue soft and hot and wet, his nose rubbing against her.  He was licking her in a slow, steady rhythm, his body rocking against the bed, as though he was rubbing himself against the sheets in time with the strokes of his tongue, and she lifted her hips a little, pushing against his mouth as sensations began to build within her.  She could feel her heart thumping in her chest, her cheeks flushing as she neared her peak, and he groaned in pleasure as he worked, the tip of his tongue running around her clit, the scrape of his stubble sending jolts of sensation through her body.  Her breath quickened, her limbs stiffening with tension, and she felt her fingers twist in his hair, her moans becoming cries as pleasure washed over her.

Gold groaned in response as she came, her fluids bathing his tongue, her scent covering him.  He swallowed her pleasure, salty and sweet in his mouth, his hands gripping her hips.  She was jerking a little, the muscles of her inner thighs jumping, and he began kissing his way back up over her belly, letting his tongue swirl in circles against warm skin and sweeping through the bloom of perspiration between her breasts.  Belle was stroking his hair, letting out tiny noises of contentment, and he kissed up her neck, pressing up between her legs, his cock hard against her.

“Are you okay?” he asked breathlessly, and she nodded, a sleepy affection in her eyes that made his heart clench.

He brushed her hair back from her face, careful not to put any weight on her injured shoulder, and reached over to the nightstand for a condom. He had to kneel up to put it on, sinking back down onto her when he was ready and lining them up to slide inside with a rumble of pleasure.  She gasped at the feel of him, her head rolling back, and lifted her knees to let him sink deeper.  It felt like coming home, like this was where he was meant to be, as one with her, with the one he loved.  He began to move, slowly and carefully, mindful of her injuries, and Belle moved with him, rocking her hips, letting him slide out almost completely before pushing back inside, and she let out a tiny cry with each thrust, her flesh already swollen and sensitive from the touch of his tongue.

She reached up to cup his cheek, her fingers pushing into his hair, and he bent to kiss her, concentrating on the scent of her and the taste of her and the soft, hot feel of her surrounding him.  She was perfection, everything he had ever wanted, and here in his arms, gazing up at him with love in her eyes as he moved inside her.  He kept his thrusts gentle, slow, their bodies sliding together, rubbing up against one another, and she moaned and pushed upwards, her mouth twisting a little with what he thought must be pain.  He stilled immediately, but she shook her head, reaching down to grip his rear and pull him tight, and so he quickened the pace a little, sensations building within him, rising up through his body.

“Oh, _Belle_!” he groaned.

She whispered something indistinct, raising her head to his chest and fastening her mouth around his nipple.  He could feel his climax ready to burst through him, and he pushed himself up on his hands so as not to crush her, bucking his hips as he thrust.  She threw her head back with a cry as she came, clenching around him, and he let go with a long, low groan, electric shocks coursing through him with every pull of her flesh against his cock.  Belle’s moans grew lower, longer, and her arms slid around him as he sank down onto his elbows, his lips trailing along her jaw.  She turned her head to kiss him, nuzzling him with her nose, the damp ends of his hair sticking to her skin.  For a moment they lay still, catching their breath, and then Belle pulled back a little, her eyes flicking up to meet his in the faint moonlight.

“I love you,” she whispered.  “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

He kissed her again, his lips tugging at hers, and she sighed in contentment, reaching up to stroke his hair back and letting the soft strands slip through her fingers.

“This is nice,” she said.  “I’ve decided I like being in your bed.”

He grinned down at her.

“Better than spending time in hospital, hmm?” he remarked, and she smirked.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said coyly.  “I kind of liked being Mrs Gold.”

“Want to make it official?”

Belle blinked at him.  “Was that a proposal?” she asked, and Gold pursed his lips.

”Yes, it sounded like one, didn’t it?” he mused.  “How about it?”

“You need to work on your delivery,” she remarked.  “But yes.”

He kissed her again, harder this time, and she tightened her grip around his waist, her thighs squeezing him.  Eventually he pulled back, gazing down at her with that soft look in his eyes that she loved.

“You want to do it here?” he asked, and she nodded.

“Why not?  This is my home now.  Something small and understated, though.  I don’t want a fuss.”

“Agreed.”  He kissed her again.  “In that case Dove isn’t allowed near the planning.”

Belle giggled.  “Poor Dove.  We should invite Jefferson and Ella.”

“If you insist,” he sighed, but his eyes were twinkling.  “You know the town will see it as a most delicious scandal.”

“Good.”  She twined her arms around his neck.  “Let’s give them all a thrill.”


	38. "Please Don't Make Me Socialise"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous prompted: "Please don't make me socialize prompt for outsider!!!!!!! Please give me more of this amazing verse!"
> 
> This is prompt #10, and this is the final chapter :) Thank you to everyone who sent me prompts, and who read and left comments and kudos

They waited until Belle’s shoulder had healed enough to take off the dressings.  She had a puckered scar where the bullet had punched through her skin, but Gold kissed it gently and told her it showed her strength.  Despite that she didn’t want it in any wedding photos that would be taken, but given that it was winter, and their wedding was to be as small and informal as Gold had managed to constrain Dove into arranging, she wasn’t about to be wearing anything strapless.  There was to be only a handful of guests at the ceremony: Dove (who would be giving her away, much to his delight), a large, bearded man called Anton, whom Belle liked very much, Jefferson, Ella and her girlfriends, and Ruby and Granny from the diner, with whom Belle had quickly made friends.  Archie, the local psychiatrist, was ordained, and had readily agreed to perform the ceremony.  Ruby had something of a crush on him, and Belle suspected that she was looking forward to sharing a few drinks with him in the diner afterwards.

The general reaction from Storybrooke to their relationship had been one of surprise and some hostility.  She had received disapproving looks from some of the townsfolk, but the majority of their censure appeared to be directed at Gold, and as he didn’t care in the slightest it didn’t really matter.  It was approaching Christmas, and she supposed that the town had better things to do than worry over the pawnbroker marrying a woman less than half his age.  

The evidence that Jefferson had sent to Agent Fa had created an almighty stink within the government, and there had been several high-profile resignations and arrests already.  It gave Belle a tremendous sense of satisfaction to know that the work she and her mother had done had not been in vain, and that several trafficking rings had already been broken up and dozens of people, mainly women and children, had been rescued.

* * *

Two days before the wedding, Jefferson and Ella arrived with two other women Belle had met before, if only once.  Ursula was tall and curvaceous, with smooth brown skin and bronze-streaked hair, and Mal was slender and blonde, with full lips and high cheekbones, and a penchant for vintage clothing.  The three of them seemed inseparable, reaching out to touch one another or brush back a lock of hair whenever they passed, fingers lacing together as they walked.  They raised eyebrows amongst the townsfolk upon walking into Granny’s diner wrapped in silks and furs and demanding a room, a bottle of gin and three glasses.

Belle couldn’t help hiding a giggle at the reaction of the townsfolk to the three impeccably-dressed and very affectionate women.  Granny, however, had simply raised a brow, told them to keep the noise down after midnight, and plonked a bottle of gin and a dish of sliced lemon on the bar.  The arrival of Jefferson, in his velvet frock coat and a battered top hat, almost caused some of the patrons to spit out their beer.

 _“Those_ are Gold’s friends?” asked Ruby, sitting across from Belle in one of the booths and stirring her drink.  “Wow.  I mean you’d never think it to look at him, he always seems so… buttoned up.”

“Well, once he’s unbuttoned it’s a very different experience, I assure you,” said Belle, and sucked at her straw with a waggle of her eyebrows.  Ruby giggled.

“So - no bachelorette party tomorrow?” she said, and pouted.  “You _sure_ I can’t persuade you?”

Belle put down her drink, shaking her head.

“Drinks and music at our house, and that’s it.”

“You know the Rabbit Hole’s really not that bad,” said Ruby, and wrinkled her nose.  “Okay, it’s a dump, and the bartender’s a sleaze, but still…”

“Please don’t make me socialise,” sighed Belle.

“It _is_ traditional, the night before your wedding,” Ruby pointed out, grinning at her.  Belle rolled her eyes.

“I only really know a few people in Storybrooke,” she said.  “And we’re not exactly traditional, so we’d rather spend our last evening as an unmarried couple together.”

“I thought that was bad luck,” remarked Ruby.  “What if Gold sees your dress?”

“I don’t believe in luck, bad or otherwise,” said Belle.  “Besides, he’s staying here tomorrow night, remember?  We’re only together for the evening.”

“Hmm.”  Ruby watched with amusement as Mal straightened Jefferson’s collar and kissed him on both cheeks.  “Should be fun.”

“Archie’s coming,” said Belle innocently.  “Maybe you can find a way to ease his nerves before the big day.”

Ruby blushed.

* * *

The following evening started out well, with Ruby bringing over boxes filled with finger food that Granny had prepared, and Ella opening a bottle of champagne as soon as the clock struck five.  Belle waited until Gold had packed his wedding outfit and overnight bag - he was to stay at Granny’s with the others that night - and then she hung her dress up in their bedroom, hands smoothing the skirt.  Given that the wedding was small, she had gone for something understated.  The dress was short, with a skirt that flared out from the waist, and lace covering the bosom and making up the sleeves that reached to her elbows.  She had gone shopping with Ella and Ursula in New York, but they had wanted something far more extravagant.

“But _look_!” Ella had protested, holding up a long ivory satin gown, beautifully stitched with tiny crystals.  “You’d be  _stunning_ in this one, darling!”

“You said that about the last twenty,” Belle had said in a dry tone.  “Do I have to remind you that I’m getting married _in the woods_?”

Ursula had sniffed.  “No, but we were hoping you’d change your mind.  What’s a wedding without a little spectacle?”

“I’ll leave the spectacle to you guys,” Belle had said, picking up up a couple of plainer dresses.  “This is going to be small and simple.  Just the two of us, and fewer than a dozen guests.  It’ll be perfect.”

“But just look at the _train_!” Ella had protested, spreading it across her arm to display the intricate beading and embroidery.  “You’d look _ravishing_!”

“Oh, I fully plan on being ravished afterwards, believe me.”  Belle unzipped one of the short dresses.  “But walking in those heels is going to be difficult enough without a - a bloody great satin train dragging half the forest up the aisle with me.  I’d probably find a squirrel in it when I took it off.”

Ella had sighed, but relented, and she and Ursula had helped to choose the dress that now hung from the wardrobe.  And the underwear that sat in her drawer, wrapped in tissue paper.  She grinned to herself.  Less than a day, and they would be married.

* * *

Guests for the pre-wedding party began arriving at around seven, stamping the frost from their shoes and shaking hands and kissing cheeks as they entered.  Music was playing, Ella and Ursula selecting a mixture of jazz and blues tunes, and Gold let the music seep into him, the chatter and laughter of the guests washing over him in a wave of contentment.  Belle had donned a dark green dress, her hair wound up on her head, and Gold watched from the doorway as she had an impromptu dance with Ruby, who was wearing red, dark hair swishing as she moved.  The two of them had each drunk a couple of glasses of champagne, and Belle was adorably flushed and giggly.  He couldn’t keep the tiny smile from his face.  In twenty four hours they would be joined, and he would be part of a family again, each of them caring for the other.  In their different ways.

“You’re besotted, aren’t you?”

Ella came up behind him and rested her chin on his shoulder, casting her eyes at him.  His smile widened.

“That obvious, is it?”

“ _Painfully_ , darling,” she drawled, winking at him, “but she’s besotted too, so I suppose I’ll allow it.”

“Very generous.”  He took a sip of his wine.  “You seem very happy too.  It’s nice to see.”

“Yes.”  She sighed in contentment.  “We must be getting old, hmm?”

“It has its advantages, I suppose.”

She lifted her chin, walking around to face him, and drank the last of the gin and tonic in her glass.

“Can we expect the patter of tiny feet soon?” she asked, with a grin.  “I feel the need to be a _terrible_ influence on a small child, and yours would do nicely.”

Gold returned her grin.

“We’ll see,” he said.  “We haven’t discussed it yet.  I suspect Belle will want to go to college first.”

“Well, don’t hold back if you decide to get carried away on honeymoon,” she said airily.  “Just remember I’m to be First Vodka Aunt.  Ursula and Mal can duke it out for second place.”

“And here I thought you’d be Gin Aunt,” he said dryly, and she smirked.

“Speaking of.”  She held up her empty glass, and he rolled his eyes.

“Let me get you another,” he sighed.

“You’re an absolute darling.”  She reached out to snag Mal with a hand as she passed, and pulled her in for a kiss.  “Another drink?”

“Don’t mind if I do.”  Mal shot Gold a beaming smile, and he gave her a flat look as he took her empty glass.

“I need to get some ice,” he said.  “I presume you want a large one?”

“Is there any other kind?” she drawled, and he grinned.

“A moment,” he said, and stepped into the hallway to head for the kitchen.

The telephone rang, a shrill, insistent noise, and Gold rolled his eyes, quickening his pace.

“I’ll get it,” he called over his shoulder.

“Oh, it might be Archie!” shouted Belle.  “He said he’d be a little late.”

“Okay.”

He walked to the kitchen, snatching up the receiver and putting it to his ear.

“Yes?” he asked absently, sliding the empty glasses onto the table.

“Mr Gold.”

The voice was smooth and distinctly English, and Gold was snatched back in time, dragged back fifteen years or more to a life he had tried his hardest to forget.  A time of darkness and shadows that he had thought until recently would only be revisited in his nightmares.  His mind went unwillingly, scratching and clawing at the ether, trying to remain in the present, where he was content.  Where he was happy.  Where he was with _her_.

“It’s been some time,” the voice went on, “but I was delighted to hear that your loyalty remains as unshakeable as ever it was.”

Gold’s heart thumped in his chest, a heavy feeling of dread flowing into him and sinking down through his body.  He raised his chin, his face smooth and impassive, as though they could already see him.

“What do you want?” he asked calmly, and there was a sigh on the other end.

“Really?” drawled the voice.  “No greeting, after all this time?  No polite inanities about the weather?  No enquiry after the health of my family?  Where _are_ your manners?”

“What do you want?” repeated Gold, his voice cold.

“Ever the savage at heart, I see.  You can take the man out of Glasgow…”

“I won’t ask again,” said Gold quietly, his accent thickening with emotion, and there was another sigh.

“We have an assignment for you.”


End file.
